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FIFTY 

Missionary   Stories 


COMPILED  BY 

BELLE   M.  BRAIN 

AUTHOR  OF  "transformation  OF  HAWAII," 

"missionary    readings  FOR    MISSIONARY  PROGRAMS, 

ETC. 


CHICAGO       NEW  YORK       TORONTO 

Fleming  H.  Re  veil  Company 

LONDON  EDINBURGH 


Copyright  by 

FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 

1903 


Chicago:  125  no.  wabash  avenue 
new  york:  158  fifth  avenue 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  street,  w. 
London:  2t  paternoster  square 
Edinburgh:     100    princes     street 


FOREWOTO) 

The  kindly  reception  accorded  to  "Mis- 
sionary Readings  for  Missionary  Programs'* 
and  its  twenty-five  selections  from  famous 
missionary  books,  together  with  requests 
received  for  a  second  series  along  similar 
lines,  has  led  to  the  preparation  of  the  pres- 
ent volume. 

The  fifty  stories  herewith  given  are  of 
varied  length  and  cover  a  wide  range  of 
topics.  Many  of  them  have  necessarily- 
been  greatly  condensed,  but  care  has  been 
taken  to  do  this  without  marring  the  work 
of  the  original  author. 

It  is  hoped  that  the  little  book  may  not 
only  prove  useful  in  preparing  missionary 
programs,  but  may  also  help  to  solve  the 
problem  of  providing  suitable  reading  for 
young  folks  in  the  home  circle  on  Sunday 
afternoons. 

Grateful  acknowledgment  is  herewith 
made  of  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  the 
following  editors  and  publishers  for  per- 
mission to  use  copyrighted  material:  Rev. 
F.  E.  Gark,  D.  D.,  editor  of  the  Christian 
'Endeavor  World;  Mr.  D.  L.  Pierson,  edi- 
B 

2134323 


6  Foreword 

tor  of  the  Missionary  Review  of  the  World; 
The  Century  Company,  publishers  of  The 
Century  Magazine;  the  Congregational  Sun- 
day-school and  Publishing  Society,  pub- 
lishers of  "Faith  Working  Through  Love" ; 
The  Friends'  Bible  Institute  Press,  pub- 
lishers of  "Sketches  from  the  Dark  Conti- 
nent"; The  American  Baptist  Missionary 
Union,  publishers  of  "Pagoda  Shadows"; 
and  The  Baker  and  Taylor  Company,  pub- 
lishers of  "The  New  Acts  of  the  Apostles.'* 
Belle  M.  Brain. 
Springfield,  Ohio,  February  i8,  1903. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Missionary  Enterprises  in  the  South  Sea 
Islands. 

1.  A  Talking  Chip ii 

2.  Sunday  in  Raratonga 14 

The  Story  of  John  G.  Paton. 

3.  The  First  Book  and  the  New  Eyes.  ...     17 

4.  The  Orphans  and  Their  Biscuits 22 

Letters    and    Sketches    from     the    New 
Hebrides. 

5.  LiTSi's  Visit  to  Missfs  Land 27 

6.  The  "Law  and  the  Gospel"  on  Aniwa.    31 

James  Chalmers;  His  Autobiography  and 
Letters. 

7.  Why  We  Left  Great  Britain 37 

8.  Enforcing  the  Fourth  Commandment.    39 

A  Retrospect. 

9.  A  Breeze  from  God 42 

The  Missionary  Review  of  the  World. 

10.  Digging  Through  to  England 46 

11.  A  Living  Witness 53 

Peril  and  Adventure  in  Central  Africa. 

12.  African  Curiosity 56 

Sketches  from  the  Dark  Continent. 

13.  A  Search  for  a  Word 59 

The  Lines  of  Robert  and  Mary  Moffat. 

14.  Preaching  to  the  "Dogs" 66 

15.  A  Cautious   Scotchman 69 

7 


8  Contents 

PAGE 

The  Story  of  Mackay  of  Uganda. 
116.  A  Wonderful  Cart 72 

17.  Mackay  as  Undertaker 76 

Children's  Work  for  Children, 

18.  A  Musical  Ghost 87 

New  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 

19.  A  Novel  Funeral 90 

Topsy-Turvy  Land. 

20.  The    Little     Missionaries — A     Guess 

Story 93 

My  Life  and  Times. 

21.  "Hamlin,  the  Baker  !" 98 

22.  Building  a  Church  out  of  an  English 

Beer  Barrel 103 

23.  Admiral  Farragut's  Question no 

Woman  and  Her  Saviour  tn  Persia. 

24.  Six  Black  Pins 119 

Faith  Working  By  Love. 

25.  "If  You  Love  Me,  Lean  Hard." 122 

With  the  Tibetans  in  Tent  and  Temple. 

26.  The  Kanpo  of  Kumbum 124 

Among  the  Mongols. 

27.  Among  the   Mongols 130 

Life  of  John  Kenneth  Mackenzie. 

28.  A  Cruel  Chinese  Custom 134 

Pagoda  Shadows. 
ao.  A  Visit  to  a  Chinese  Drug  Store 137 


Contents  9 

PAGE 

A  Chinese  Quaker. 

30.  Temperance  Charle.y 141 

The  Children's  Record. 

31.  Runaway  Bob 145 

Modern  Heroes  of  the  Mission  Field. 

32.  A  Safe  Test 147 

33.  "Only  a  Cobbler!" 149 

Mosaics  from  India. 

34.  One  Little  Widow 151 

Between  Life  and  Death. 

35.  Difficulties  of  Doctoring  in  India....  158 
Village  Work  in  India. 

36.  How  We  Dug  the  Well 161 

Soo  Thah;  A  Tale  of  the  Making  of  the 
Karen  Nation. 

27.  The  Winning  of  the  Brecs 171 

Korean  Sketches. 

38.  Kim  of  Korea 179 

39.  The  Mistakes  of  Missionaries 183 

The  Century  Magazine. 

40.  Novel  Signs  in  Japanese  Cities 186 

The  Gist  of  lapan. 

41.  Japanese  Etiquette 192 

The  Life  of  loseph  Hardy  Neesima. 

42.  Making  Money  for  God 195 

From  Far  Formosa. 

43.  Pulling   Teeth   in   the   Land   of  the 

Toothache  197 

44.  The  Testing  of  a  Hoa 201 


10  Contents 

PAGE 

The  Apostle  of  the  North — James  Evans. 

45.  John  Sunday's  Appeal  to  Mr  Gold 204 

46.  Four  Indlans  and  a  Keg  of  Whiskey.  .  207 

On  the  Indian  Trail. 

47.  The  Starvation  Cure 210 

My  Days  in  the  Northland. 

48.  JacKj  the  Famous  Missionary  Dog....  214 
The  Story  of  Metlakahtla. 

49.  The  Tamer  of  the  Tsimsheans 218 

A  Short  History  of  the  Moravian  Church. 

50.  Count    Zinzendorf    and    Rabbi    Abra- 

ham  223 


FIFTY  MISSIONARY 
STORIES 


A  TALKING  CHIP 

From  "Missionary  Enterprises  in  the  South 
Sea  Islands,"  by  John  Williams. 

In  the  erection  of  a  chapel  on  Raratonga* 
a  circumstance  occurred  which  gives  a  strik- 
ing idea  of  the  feelings  of  an  untaught  peo- 
ple when  observing  for  the  first  time  the 
efffects  of  written  communications. 

As  I  had  come  to  work  one  morning  with- 
out my  square,  I  took  up  a  chip  and  with 
a  piece  of  charcoal  wrote  upon  it  a  request 
that  Mrs.  Williams  would  send  me  that 
article.  Calling  a  chief  who  was  superin- 
tending one  portion  of  the  work,  I  said  to 
him: 

"Friend,  take  this,  go  to  our  house  and 
give  it  to  Mrs.  Williams." 

He  was  a  singular-looking  man,  remark- 
ably quick  in  his  movements  and  had  been 
a  great  warrior,  but  in  one  of  the  numerous 
battles  he  had  fought  had  lost  an  eye.    Giv- 


*An  island  of  the  Cook  or  Hervey  group. 
U 


12       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

ing  me  an  inexpressible  look  with  the  other, 
he  said: 

"Take  that  ?  She  will  call  me  a  fool  and 
scold  me  if  I  carry  a  chip  to  her." 

"No,"  I  replied,  "she  will  not.  Take  it 
and  go  immediately ;  I  am  in  haste." 

Perceiving  me  to  be  in  earnest,  he  took  it 
and  asked ; 

"What  must  I  say?" 

"You  have  nothing  to  say,"  I  replied; 
"the  chip  will  say  all  that  I  wish." 

With  a  look  of  astonishment  and  con- 
tempt he  held  up  the  piece  of  wood  and 
said:  "How  can  this  speak?  Has  it  a 
mouth?" 

"Take  it  immediately,"  I  replied,  'and 
do  not  spend  so  much  time  in  talking  about 
it." 

On  arriving  at  the  house  he  gave  the  chip 
to  Mrs.  Williams,  who  read  it,  threw  it 
away  and  went  to  the  tool-chest,  whither 
the  chief,  resolved  to  see  the  result  of  this 
mysterious  proceeding,  followed  her  closely. 
On  receiving  the  square  from  her  he  said: 

"Stay,  daughter;  how  do  you  know  that 
this  is  what  Mr.  Williams  wants?" 

"Why,"  she  replied,  "did  you  not  bring  me 
a  chip  just  now?" 


A  Talking  Chip  i^ 

**Yes,"  said  the  astonished  warrior,  "but 
I  did  not  hear  it  say  anything." 

"If  you  did  not,  I  did,"  was  the  reply, 
"for  it  made  known  to  me  what  he  wanted, 
and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  return  with  it 
as  quickly  as  possible." 

With  this  the  chief  leaped  out  of  the  house 
and  catching  up  the  mysterious  piece  of 
wood,  he  ran  through  the  settlement  with 
the  chip  in  one  hand  and  the  square  in  the 
other,  holding  them  as  high  as  his  arms 
would  reach  and  shouting  as  he  went : 

"See  the  wisdom  of  these  English  peo- 
ple! They  can  make  chips  talk!  They 
can  make  chips  talk!" 

On  giving  me  the  square  he  wished  to 
know  how  it  was  possible  thus  to  converse 
with  persons  at  a  distance.  I  gave  him  all 
the  explanation  in  my  power,  but  it  was  a 
circumstance  involved  in  so  much  mystery 
that  he  actually  tied  a  string  to  the  chip, 
hung  it  around  his  neck  and  wore  it  for 
some  time. 

During  several  following  days  we  fre- 
quently saw  him  surrounded  by  a  crowd, 
who  were  listening  with  intense  interest 
while  he  narrated  the  wonders  this  chip 
had  performed. 


SUNDAY  IN  RARATONGA 

From  "Missionary  Enterprises  in  the  South 
Sea  Islands,"  by  John  Williams. 

The  manner  in  which  the  people  of  Rara- 
tonga^  spent  their  Sabbaths  was  deeply  in- 
teresting. At  sunrise  they  held  a  prayer- 
meeting  to  implore  the  divine  blessing  on 
the  engagements  of  the  day ;  this  they  con- 
ducted entirely  themselves. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  congregation  assem- 
bled again,  vdien  the  missionary  performed 
divine  service  just  as  it  is  conducted  in  Eng- 
land, prayer  being  offered,  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures read,  and  hymns  sung  in  their  own 
beautiful  language,  after  which  a  sermon  is 
preached  to  them.  Prior  to  the  commence- 
ment of  the  service,  however,  they  met  in 
classes  of  ten  or  twelve  families  each,  and 
distributed  among  themselves  the  respective 
portions  of  the  sermon  which  each  individ- 
ual should  bring  away. 

"Mine  shall  be  the  text  and  all  that  is 


lAn  island  of  the  Cook  or  Hervey  group. 
14 


Sunday  in  Raratonga         15 

said  in  immediate  connection  with  it,"  said 
one. 

"I  will  take  care  of  the  first  division,"  said 
another. 

"I  will  bring  home  the  particulars  under 
that  head,"  declared  a  third. 

Thus  was  the  sermon  apportioned  out  be- 
fore it  was  delivered. 

At  a  convenient  time  after  the  service  the 
respective  classes  met,  and  after  commenc- 
ing their  social  service  with  singing  and 
prayer,  one  of  the  most  intelligent  of  their 
number  began  by  inquiring: 

"With  whom  is  the  text?"  and  then  pro- 
posed a  variety  of  questions  upon  it. 

After  this  he  asked  for  the  divisions  of 
the  discourse,  and  when  one  had  been  given 
he  would  say: 

"To  what  portion  of  Scripture  were  we 
referred  ?" 

This  was  found  a  most  excellent  and  effi- 
cient method  of  proceeding,  as  it  induced 
the  people  not  only  to  pay  great  attention  to 
the  sermon,  but  to  search  the  Scriptures 
with  interest,  and  also  to  exercise  their 
minds  upon  the  meaning  and  application 
of  what  they  read. 

This  social  exercise  was  a  preparation  for 
the  more  public  examination  conducted  by 


I. 


i6       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

the  missionary,  which  took  place  in  the 
chapel  between  the  hours  of  one  and  two, 
■when  all  the  classes  assembled ;  and  seldom 
was  there  a  sentiment  or  a  sentence  of  im- 
portance in  the  discourse  which  was  not 
then  repeated  by  one  or  another  of  the  con- 
gregation. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  evening  service, 
both  on  the  Sabbath  and  other  days,  a  great 
number  followed  us  home,  took  their  seats 
tinder  the  banana  and  plantain  trees,  by 
"which  our  house  was  encircled,  and  spent  an 
hour  or  more  in  making  inquiries  about  the 
subjects  of  our  address. 


THE  FIRST  BOOK  AND  THE  NEW 
EYES 

From  "The  Story  of  John  G.  Paton." 

The  printing  of  the  first  book  on  Aniwa' 
was  a  great  event,  not  so  much  for  the  toil 
and  worry  which  it  cost  me,  though  that 
was  enough  to  have  broken  the  heart  of 
many  a  compositor,  as  rather  for  the  joy 
it  gave  to  the  old  Chief  Namakei. 

He  had  eagerly  helped  me  in  translating 
and  preparing  it,  and  had  a  great  desire  "to 
hear  it  speak,"  as  he  graphically  expressed 
it.     It  was  made  up  chiefly  of  short  pas- 
sages from  the  Scriptures  that  might  help 
me  to  introduce  them  to  the  treasures  of 
Divine  truth  and  love.     Namakei  came  to 
me  morning  after  morning,  saying: 
"Missi,  is  it  done?    Can  it  speak?" 
At  last  I  was  able  to  answer,  "Yes  1" 
"Does  it  speak  my  words?"  the  old  chief 
eagerly  responded. 
"It  does,"  I  replied. 


*An  island  of  the  New  Hebrides  groi^. 
17 


1 8       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

"Make  it  speak  to  me,  Missi  I"  Namakei 
exclaimed,  with  rising  interest.  "Let  me 
hear  it  speak." 

I  read  to  him  a  portion  of  the  book,  and 
the  old  man  fairly  shouted  in  an  ecstasy  of 
joy. 

"It  does  speak!  It  speaks  my  own  lan- 
guage, too !    Oh,  give  it  to  me !" 

He  grasped  it  hurriedly,  turned  it  all 
round  every  way,  pressed  it  to  his  bosom, 
and  then,  closing  it  with  a  great  look  of 
disappointment,  handed  it  back  to  me,  say- 
ing: 

"Missi,  I  cannot  make  it  speak  t  It  will 
never  speak  to  me." 

"No,"  said  I;  "you  don't  know  how  to 
read  it  yet,  how  to  make  it  speak  to  you ;  but 
I  will  teach  you  to  read,  and  then  it  will 
speak  to  you  as  it  does  to  me." 

"O  Missi,  dear  Missi,  show  me  how  to 
make  it  speak,"  persisted  the  bewildered 
chief. 

He  was  straining  his  eyes  so,  that  I  sus- 
pected they  were  dim  with  age  and  could 
not  see  the  letters.  I  looked  out  for  him 
a  pair  of  spectacles  and  managed  to  fit  him 
well.  He  was  very  much  afraid  of  putting 
them  on  at  first,  manifestly  in  dread  of  some 
sort  of  sorcery.     At  last  when  they  were 


The  First  Book  19 

properly  placed,  he  saw  the  letters  and 
everything  so  clearly  that  he  exclaimed  in 
great  excitement  and  joy: 

"I  see  it  all  now !  This  is  what  you  told 
us  about  Jesus.  He  opened  the  eyes  of  a 
blind  man.  The  word  of  Jesus  has  just 
come  to  Aniwa.  He  has  sent  me  these 
glass  eyes.  I  have  gotten  back  again  the 
sight  I  had  when  a  boy.  O  Missi,  make  the 
book  speak  to  me  now  !** 

I  walked  out  with  him  to  the  public  Vil- 
lage Ground.  There  I  drew  A  B  C  in  large 
characters  upon  the  dust,  showed  him  the 
same  letters  in  the  book,  and  left  him  to 
compare  them  and  find  out  how  many  oc- 
curred on  the  first  page.  Fixing  these  in 
his  mind,  he  came  running  to  me  and  said : 

"I  have  lifted  up  A  B  C.  They  are  here 
in  my  head  and  I  will  hold  them  fast.  Give 
me  other  three." 

This  was  repeated  time  after  time.  He 
mastered  the  whole  alphabet  and  soon  began 
to  spell  out  the  smaller  words.  Indeed,  he 
came  so  often,  getting  me  to  read  it  over 
and  over,  that  before  he  could  read  it  freely 
he  had  it  word  for  word  committed  to  mem- 
ory. When  strangers  passed  him,  or  young 
people  came  around,  he  would  get  out  the 
little  book  and  say ; 


20       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

"Come,  and  I  will  let  you  hear  how  the 
book  speaks  our  own  Aniwan  words.  You 
say  it  is  hard  to  learn  to  read  and  make 
it  speak.  But  be  strong  to  try!  If  an  old 
man  like  me  has  done  it,  it  ought  to  be  much 
easier  for  you." 

One  day  I  heard  him  read  to  a  company 
with  wonderful  fluency.  Taking  the  book 
I  asked  him  to  show  me  how  he  had  learned 
to  read  so  quickly.  Immediately  I  per- 
ceived that  he  could  recite  the  whole  from 
memory ! 

He  became  our  right-hand  helper  in  the 
conversion  of  Aniwa,  and  was  particularly 
anxious  that  his  wife,  Yauwaki,  should  be 
taught  to  read.  But  her  sight  was  far  gone. 
So  one  day  he  brought  her  to  me  saying : 

"Missi,  can  you  give  my  wife  also  a 
new  pair  of  glass  eyes  like  mine  ?  She  tries 
to  learn,  but  she  cannot  see  the  letters.  She 
tries  to  sew,  but  she  pricks  her  fingers  and 
throws  away  the  needle,  saying,  'The  ways 
of  the  white  people  are  not  good  !*  If  she 
could  get  a  pair  of  glass  eyes  she  would 
be  in  a  new  world  Hke  Namakei." 

In  my  bundle  I  found  a  pair  that  suited 
her.    She  was  in  positive  terror  about  put- 


The  First  Book  21 

ting  them  on  her  face,  but  at  last  she  cried 
with  delight: 

"Oh,  my  new  eyes !  my  new  eyes !    I  have 
the  sight  of  a  little  girl.    Oh,  my  new  eyes  l" 


y 


THE   ORPHANS    AND   THEIR    BIS- 
CUITS 

From  "The  Story  of  John  G.  Paton." 

When  the  people  of  Aniwa^  became  Chris- 
tians, the  habits  of  morning  and  evening 
Family  Prayer  and  of  Grace  at  meat  took  a 
very  wonderful  hold  upon  them,  and  became 
a  distinctive  badge  of  Christian  versus 
Heathen. 

This  was  strikingly  manifest  during  a 
time  of  bitter  scarcity  that  befell  us.  I 
heard  a  father,  for  instance,  at  his  hut  door, 
with  his  family  around  him,  reverently  bless- 
ing God  for  the  food  provided  for  them, 
and  for  all  his  mercies  in  Christ  Jesus. 
Drawing  near  and  conversing  with  them,  I 
found  that  their  meals  consisted  of  fig  leaves 
which  they  had  gathered  and  cooked — a 
poor  enough  dish,  but  hunger  makes  a 
healthy  appetite,  and  contentment  is  a  grate- 
ful relish. 


*One  of  the  New  Hebrides  Islands. 
22 


The  Orphans  23 

During  the  same  period  of  privation  my 
Orphans  suffered  badly  also.  Once  they 
came  to  me,  saying : 

^'Missi/  we  are  very  hungry." 

"So  am  I,  dear  children,"  I  replied,  "and 
we  have  no  more  white  food  till  the  Day- 
spring^  comes." 

"Missi,"  they  continued,  "you  have  two 
beautiful  fig  trees.  Will  you  let  us  take 
one  feast  of  the  young  and  tender  leaves? 
We  will  not  injure  branch  or  fruit." 

"Gladly,  my  children,"  I  answered ;  "take 
your  fill!" 

In  a  twinkling  each  child  was  perched 
upon  a  branch,  and  they  feasted  there  as 
happy  as  squirrels. 

Every  night  we  prayed  for  the  vessel,  and 
in  the  morning  our  Orphan  boys  rushed  to 
the  coral  rocks  and  eagerly  scanned  the  sea 
for  an  answer.  Day  after  day  they  returned 
with  sad  faces,  saying: 

*'Missi,  Tavaka  jimra!"  (No  vessel  yet.) 

But  at  gray  dawn  of  a  certain  day  we 
were  awakened  by  the  boys  shouting  from 
the  shore,  and  running  for  the  Mission 
House  with  the  cry: 


^Missionary.    *The  mission  vessel  which  carried 
letters  and  supplies  to  the  various  stations. 


24       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

"Tavaka  oal  Tavakaoa!"  (The  vessel, 
hurrah!) 

We  arose  at  once,  and  looking  through 
my  glass,  I  saw  that  they  were  discharging 
goods  into  the  vessel's  boats ;  and  the  chil- 
dren, when  I  told  them  that  boxes  and  bags 
and  casks  were  being  sent  on  shore,  shouted 
and  danced  with  delight.  As  the  first  boat- 
load was  discharged  the  Orphans  surround- 
ed me,  saying: 

"Missi,  here  is  a  cask  that  rattles  like 
biscuits.  May  we  take  it  to  the  Mission 
House?" 

I  told  them  to  do  so  if  they  could ;  and  in 
a  moment  it  was  turned  into  the  path  and 
the  boys  had  it  flying  before  them,  some 
tumbling  and  hurting  their  knees,  but  up 
and  at  it  again,  and  never  pausing  until  it 
rolled  up  at  the  door  of  our  storehouse.  On 
returning  I  found  them  all  around  it,  and 
they   said : 

"Missi,  have  you  forgotten  what  you 
promised  us?" 

"What  did  I  promise  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"Missi  has  forgot,"  they  whispered  to 
each  other,  looking  much  disappointed. 

"Forgot  what?"  I  inquired. 

"Missi,"  they  replied,  "you  promised  that 


The  Orphans  25 

when  the  vessel  came  you  would  give  each 
of  us  a  biscuit." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "I  did  not  forget;  I  only 
wanted  to  see  if  you  remembered  it." 

"No  fear  of  that,  Missi !"  they  said,  laugh- 
ing. "Will  you  soon  open  the  cask?  We 
are  dying  for  biscuits !" 

At  once  I  got  hammer  and  tools,  knocked 
off  the  hoops,  took  off  one  end,  and  then 
gave  girls  and  boys  a  biscuit  each.  To  my 
surprise  they  all  stood  around,  biscuit  in 
hand,  but  not  one  beginning  to  eat. 

"What,"  I  exclaimed,  "you  are  dying  for 
biscuits!  Why  don't  you  eat?  Are  you 
expecting  another?" 

"We  will  first  thank  God  for  sending  us 
food,"  one  of  the  eldest  said,  "and  ask  Him 
to  bless  it  to  us  all." 

And  this  was  done  in  their  own  simple 
and  beautiful  childlike  way;  and  then  they 
did  eat,  and  enjoyed  their  food  as  a  gift 
from  the  Heavenly  Father's  hand.  (Is  there 
any  one  reading  this  who  never  thanks  God 
or  asks  him  to  bless  daily  bread  ?  Then  is 
not  that  one  a  white  Heathen?) 

We  ourselves  at  the  Mission  House  could 
very  heartily  rejoice  with  the  dear  Orphans. 
For  some  weeks  past  our  European  food 
had  all  been  exhausted,  except  a  little  tea; 


26      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

and  the  cocoanut  had  been  our  chief  sup- 
port. It  was  beginning  to  tell  against  us. 
Our  souls  rose  in  gratitude  to  the  Lord,  who 
had  sent  us  these  fresh  provisions  that  we 
might  love  Him  better  and  serve  Him  more. 


LITSrS  VISIT  TO  MISSI'S  LAND 

From  "Letters  and  Sketches  from  the  New 
Hebrides,"  by  Maggie  Whitecross  Paton  (Mrs. 
John  G.  Paton,  of  Aniwa). 

*I  had  often  while  on  the  island  pictured 
what  my  sensations  would  be  if  I  ever  agaitl 
trod  the  streets  of  Civilization;  but  I  had 
none  at  all! 

It  all  came  so  natural  that  I  quite  forgot 
I  had  ever  been  away.  It  was  great  fun  get- 
ting Litsi^  into  shoes  for  the  first  time  be- 
fore we  all  went  on  shore  to  stay.  She  was 
so  unsteady  on  her  unaccustomed  leather 
feet  that  I  had  to  carry  the  Baby,  for  she 
needed  her  outstretched  arms  to  balance  her- 
self, as  she  went  clamping  along  and  squeal- 
ing: 

"Missi,'  Missi,   I'll  fall!    I'll  fall!" 

She  had  exalted  and  very  exaggerated 
expectations  in  going  to  the  White  Man's 


iMrs.  Paton  made  this  brief  visit  to  Australia 
to  seek  medical  advice  for  her  baby. 
*The  baby's  native  nurse. 
'The  natives'  name  for  missionary. 

27 


28      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

Land,  the  land  of  the  Missionary,  where  she 
would  see  only  what  was  pure  and  good  and 
holy.  To  the  credit  of  those  whom  she  met, 
and  her  not  being  able  to  read  the  daily 
newspapers,  she  was  not  disillusionized. 

When  we  arrived  at  Adelaide  and  she 
saw  the  royal  welcome  I  got  from  my  own 
mother  and  sister  and  all  the  dear  ones 
there,  it  struck  her  in  a  peculiar  way  which 
she  could  not  get  over.  I  was,  of  course, 
wild  with  delight,  and  flew  from  room  to 
room,  all  talking  merrily  as  we  were  shown 
over  the  pretty  new  house.  When  at  last 
I  went  upstairs  to  my  room,  there  I  found 
Litsi  sitting  on  the  floor  and  sobbing  like 
to  break  her  heart !  As  I  anxiously  inquired 
the  cause,  she  burst  out: 

"Missi,  I  never  knew  what  you  had  given 
up  to  come  to  our  dark  land !  I  never  knew 
you  had  given  up  a  mother  like  that,  or  such 
a  sister  and  brother-in-law.  We  did  not 
know  you  lived  in  such  beautiful  homes. 
/  fear,  I  fear  you  will  never  go  back  to  our 
dark  land  again!" 

Litsi's  remarks  about  civilization  showed 
more  wide-awake  intelligence  than  did,  as  a 
rule,  the  white  folks'  remarks  about  heathen- 
dom. She  once  asked  me  if  all  the  people 
of  Adelaide  had  quarreled,  as  hardly  any  of 


Litsi's  Visit  29 

them  greeted  each  other  in  passing.  When 
told  that  they  had  to  wait  for  ''introduc- 
tions'* before  speaking,  she  said:  "Was  it 
not  enough  that  they  knew  each  other  as 
Christians?"  At  one  minister's  house  she 
came  to  me  in  great  consternation  and  said : 

"Didn't  you  say  that  Mr.  Blank  was  a 
Missi?" 

"Yes;  why?" 

"Oh,  you  must  be  mistaken.  Look,  he 
has  a  pipe  in  his  mouth!" 

There,  sure  enough  was  the  worthy  divine 
enjoying  a  quiet  whiff  in  his  garden.  I 
knew  that  tobacco  was  tabooed,  and  for 
strong  reasons,  as  an  evil,  by  the  Mission- 
aries ;  but  not  being  ready,  at  the  moment, 
to  explain  how  it  was  wicked  for  a  black 
man  and  not  wicked  for  a  white  man  to 
smoke,  I  mumbled  something  about  people 
having  sometimes  to  smoke  for  "toothache !" 
And  what  an  amount  of  needless  sympathy 
poor  Litsi,  from  day  to  day,  lavished  upon 
that  sorely-afflicted  man ! 

When  we  returned  what  a  lot  Litsi  had 
to  tell  of  the  wonders  of  Missi's  land !  And 
all  so  diflFerent  from  the  savages  who  had 
gone  there  with  the  slavers  and  seen  only  the 
evils. 

Our    home-coming    was    Just    delicious. 


"30       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

Everything  that  John^  and  the  darkies  could 
think  of  was  done  to  welcome  us.  The 
word  Welcome  shone  in  great  letters  over 
the  front  gate.  The  lawn  and  all  the 
grounds  were  in  perfect  order  and  several 
alterations,  which  I  had  long  desired,  beau- 
tifully carried  through. 

And  withal  there  was  on  everything  the 
flavor  of  originality  which  only  the  natives 
can  bestow.  For  instance,  sheets  spread  out 
for  tablecloths  and  vice  versa,  toilet  covers 
for  towels,  etc.,  etc.! 

iDr.  Paton. 


THE  "LAW  AND  THE  GOSPEL"  ON 

ANIWA 

From  "Letters  and  Sketches  from  the  New 
Hebrides,"  by  Maggie  Whitecross  Paton  (Mrs. 
John  G.  Paton,  of  Aniwa). 

Our  work  jogs  along  pleasantly  here; 
none  the  less  so  that,  we — I,  rather — ^have 
made  a  very  few  stern  rules  that  must  be 
kept. 

The  natives  have  about  got  into  our  ways. 
I  have  not  to  chase  round,  as  I  used  to  do, 
to  prevent  them  plucking  the  fowls  for  table 
before  they  are  killed.  This  they  were  very 
fond  of  doing  for  the  mere  pleasure  of 
hearing  them  scream! 

From  almost  the  first  day  I  made  rules 
about  not  allowing  the  natives  to  come  into 
the  house  during  our  meals;  or  ever  to  go 
into  the  cook  house  under  any  pretense 
whatever,  as  I  don't  care  to  have  sugges- 
tions of  their  personality  in  our  food.    If 


Part  of  a  letter  written  to  the  family  circle  at 
home  and  dated  "Aniwa,  New  Hebrides,  1873." 

81 


32       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

they  want  to  see  the  cook  he  goes  out  to 
them.  By  the  way,  he  is  quite  a  character, 
that  cook  of  ours;  knows  a  few  words  of 
English,  which  he  is  fond  of  airing,  and 
says,  "Yes,  sir,"  and  "No,  sir,"  to  me. 
I  can't  feel  it  in  my  heart  to  bring  him 
down  from  his  pedestal  of  politeness  by  cor- 
recting his  mistake  and  John*  won't,  plead- 
ing that  the  fellow  shows  great  penetration 
and  knows  exactly  who  rules  the  roost. 

One  nice  old  man,  eager  to  imitate  the 
Missi^  in  everything,  began  by  addressing 
me  as  "Maggie,  dear!"  but  his  Reverence 
promptly  interfered  and  put  a  stop  to  that. 

Our  natives  are  very  amusing  in  many  of 
their  ways,  and  though  often  provoking  and 
disappointing  we  do  not  lose  heart,  as  we 
might  do  with  white  people,  remembering 
that  in  these  respects  they  are  only  children 
after  all. 

We  manage  to  keep  our  bairns,  in  a  large 
measure,  separate  from  the  native  children, 
for  weighty  reasons,  but  it  requires  a  little 
engineering  to  prevent  them  from  feeling  it. 
The  front  of  our  house  is  quite  fenced  off, 
and  the  side  gates  are  locked,  so  that  they 
play  by  themselves  or  with  their  nurses; 


*Dr.  Paton.    ^Missionary. 


The  Law  and  the  Gospel      33 

and  on  Sundays  we  are  entirely  free  from 
visitors.  On  this  latter  subject  I  had  more 
bother  with  the  Missi  than  with  the  natives. 
He  maintained,  of  course,  that  we  are  here 
for  their  benefit,  ^With  which  I  heartily 
agree,  and  for  six  days  in  the  week  I  am 
their  devoted  servant  in  Christ,  at  their  beck 
and  call ;  but,  in  His  name,  I  claim  this  one 
day,  so  far  as  domestic  life  is  coaicerned,  to 
be  unreservedly  given  up  to  our  little  ones. 

We  can  thus  preserve  our  family  life 
even  in  the  midst  of  heathendom.  After 
church  services  and  Sunday  Schools  are 
over  and  the  natives  who  prefer  to  remain 
are  supplied  with  piles  of  picture  books, 
which  they  enjoy  immensely  sprawling  at 
full  length  on  the  grass,  the  Paton  family 
have  a  sweet  and  blessed  time  under  our 
shady  front  veranda,  which  rests  and  re- 
freshes them  for  the  duties  of  the  approach- 
ing week. 

I  fear  I  am  regarded  rather  as  a  Law 
unto  these  poor  people  around  us ;  but  then 
you  see  John  is  the  embodiment  of  a  glo- 
rious Gospel;  so  their  theological  surround- 
ings are  tolerably  complete ! 

Another  rule  I  fought  for  was  that  no 
one  should  enter  the  church  without  what 
appeared  to  me  a  decent  covering.     John 


34       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

was  thankful  to  get  them  there  to  hear  the 
Gospel  in  almost  any  condition,  but  I  main- 
tained that  we  had  a  right  to  church  privi- 
leges, as  well  as  the  natives,  and  that  I 
could  not  worship  the  Lord  in  His  sanct- 
uary with  practically  naked  people  stuck 
right  in  front  of  us,  nor  was  it  good  for  our 
children. 

So  the  Missi  was  at  last  induced  to  fire 
off  another  of  my  bullets  amongst  his  "be- 
loved flock."  He  solemnly  announced  in 
the  church  assembly,  that  the  few  who  still 
came  unclothed  would,  in  future,  have  to 
put  on  something,  were  it  only  a  fathom  of 
calico,  which  they  all  had,  or  could  easily 
secure  by  doing  a  little  work;  that,  a 
month's  warning  being  given,  thereafter  no 
naked  or  painted  person  would  be  allowed 
to  enter  the  church.  There  were  only  three 
or  four  natives  who  were  in  the  habit  of 
coming  unclothed,  and  it  wasn't  fair  to  the 
others  to  let  them  ride  off  in  that  way  and 
defy  our  Christian  custom. 

WTien  the  month  was  up  and  we  were  as- 
sembling in  the  church,  there  slipped  in  a 
heathen,  clothed  in  nothing  but  the  most 
startling  war-paint! 

I  spotted  our  friend  and  vowed  he  should 
not  escape  the  Missionary's  notice,  either, 


The  Law  and  the  Gospel     35 

so  when  John  had  finished  reading  the  hymn 
and  looked  across  for  me  to  begin  playing, 
he  found  me  leaning  calmly  back  with  fold- 
ed arms.  His  amazed  face  said  as  plainly 
as  possible,  "What's  the  row?"  I  gave  a 
slight  inclination  of  the  head  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  painted  individual,  and  John  at 
once  took  action  by  requesting  him  to  leave 
the  church. 

The  gentleman,  however,  had  no  more  in- 
tention of  leaving  the  church  than  I  had  of 
beginning  the  hymn.  It  was  a  question  of 
which  would  win,  and  soon  began  to  be 
exciting.  Had  I  been  given  to  betting,  I 
would  have  backed  "our  side"  to  any 
amount. 

John  repeated  his  request  firmly,  but 
kindly,  setting  forth  the  reasonableness  of 
such  a  rule.  This  was  enforced  by  earnest 
whisperings  all  around,  while  our  young 
hero  sat  complacently  grinning,  with  his 
chin  resting  on  his  knees.  The  Missi  then 
began  gently  to  collect  his  books,  saying 
that  he  never  made  a  rule  that  he  did  not 
mean  to  be  obeyed,  and  would  therefore 
now  leave  the  church  and  worship  with  his 
family  at  home. 

That,  however, '  would  not  be  tolerated, 
as  the  young  man  gathered  from  the  fero- 


36       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

clous  looks  directed  against  him.  On  the 
chief  of  his  district  being  seen  to  move 
with  serious  intention  of  ejectment,  the  big 
fellow  swung  out  of  the  building  like  light- 
ning, carrying  his  dirty  nakedness  with  him, 
and  the  service  went  on  with  something  of 
Christian  seemliness. 

That  same  afternoon  at  a  preaching  serv- 
ice in  this  man's  village,  the  poor  savage 
had  got  one  side  of  his  face  washed  and 
turned  that  to  the  Missionary.  But  John 
told  him  to  sit  round  and  make  himself  com- 
fortable, as  there  were  no  rules  to  exclude 
any  one  from  open-air  service.  To  do  him 
justice,  he  joined  heartily  in  the  laughter 
that  greeted  this  sally,  and  he  has  become 
one  of  the  very  best  fellows  we  have  since 
coming  off  second  best  in  this  little  tussle. 


WHY  WE  LEFT  GREAT  BRITAIN 

From  "James  Chalmers:  His  Autobiography 
and  Letters,"  by  Richard  Lovett,  M.  A. 

*When  first  we  went  to  New  Guinea  the 
natives  thought  we  had  been  compelled  to 
leave  our  own  land  because  of  hunger.  The 
following  conversation  took  place  shortly 
after  my  arrival,  between  myself  and  the 
people : 

"What  is  the  name  of  your  country?'* 

"Beritani." 

"Is  it  a  large  land?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  your  chief?" 

"A  woman  named  Victoria." 

"What,  a  woman?" 

"Yes,  and  she  has  great  power." 

"Why  did  you  leave  your  country  ?" 

"To  teach  you  and  to  tell  you  of  the  great 
loving  Spirit  who  loves  us  all." 

"Have  you  cocoanuts  in  your  country?" 

"No." 


^Extract  from  a  letter  written  by  Chalmers  in 
1882. 

81 


'Have  you  bread  fruit?" 


38       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

*'Have  you  yams?" 

"No." 

"Have  you  taro?" 

"No." 

"Have  you  sweet  potatoes  ?** 

"No." 

*'Have 

"No." 

"Have  you  plenty  of  hoop-iron  and  toma- 
hawks?" 

"Yes,  in  great  abundance." 

"We  understand,  now,  why  you  have 
come.  You  have  nothing  to  eat  in  Beritani, 
but  having  plenty  of  tomahawks  and  hoop- 
iron  with  which  you  can  buy  food." 

It  was  useless  to  tell  them  we  had  plenty 
of  food  different  from  theirs,  and  that  want 
of  food  did  not  send  us  away  from  Beritani. 
We  had  no  cocoanuts,  yams,  tare  or  sago, 
and  who  could  live  without  these?  Seeing 
us  opening  tinned  meat,  they  came  to  the 
sage  conclusion  that  we,  too,  were  cannibals 
and  had  man  cooked  in  our  country  and 
sent  out  to  us. 


ENFORCING    THE    FOURTH    COM- 
MANDMENT 

From  "James  Chalmers:  His  Autobiography 
and  Letters,"  by  Richard  Lovett,  M.  A. 

Ruatokai  was  a  true  Sabbatarian,  and  it 
often  vexed  his  soul  to  see  the  abuse  of  that 
sacred  day.  No  Sabbath  passed  that  he  did 
not  refer  to  it  in  the  services  of  the  day. 

In  1878  a  large  party  of  gold  prospectors 
came  to  New  Guinea,  and  as  it  was  hoped 
gold  would  be  found  in  large  quantities,  a 
German  thought  the  best  paying  concern 
would  be  a  store.  So  he  built  one  a  little 
way  from  the  back  of  the  mission  ground. 
When  it  was  finished  he  wanted  a  cook 
house  and  hired  a  Scotchman  to  put  it  up. 

On  the  Sabbath  when  Rua  was  holding 
his  forenoon  service,  there  was  loud  noise 
of  hammering  iron.  For  a  short  time  he 
stood  it,  but  at  last,  telling  his  audience  to 
go  home,  he  went  to  his  house  to  get  an 


^A  native  teacher  from  Raratonga,  who  helped 
to  plant  the  Gospel  in  New  Guinea. 
SB 


40      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

English  Bible,  in  which  he  found  the  chap- 
ter and  verses  containing  the  fourth  com- 
mandment. He  then  marched  to  where 
the  cook  house  was  being  put  up. 

When  the  German  and  a  friend,  who  were 
sitting  on  the  doorstep  of  the  store,  saw 
the  teacher  coming  they  wondered  what 
was  the  matter,  he  looked  so  very  solemn. 
The  Scotchman  was  working  on  the  top  of 
the  cook  house.  Rua  came  just  beneath  him 
and  knowing  only  a  little  pidgin  English,  he 
said,  pointing  to  the  man  on  the  house: 

"Say,  come  down." 

The  white  man  was  somewhat  astonished 
to  have  such  a  peremptory  order  from  a 
colored  man,  and  did  not  answer. 

*'Say,  you  know  savee.  I  speak  come 
down." 

The  white  man  found  his  tongue,  and 
I  believe  his  wrath  exploded  in  fearful  curs- 
ing.    Again  Rua  said: 

"What  do  you  talk?  You  white  fellow 
send  missionary  along  my  country  and  my 
tountry  he  get  good  and  he  like  Sabati 
much.  Before  my  countrymen  he  eat  you, 
but  no  now.  I  come  along  New  Guinea.  I 
speak  man  Sabati  he  tapu,  no  work,  no  fish, 
no  hunt,  no  build  house  on  Sabati ;  now  New 
Guinea  man,  he  say,  Ruatoka,  you  make  lie. 


The  Fourth  Commandment    41 

white  man  he  work  Sabati.  What  for  you 
make  him?     Come  down." 

Once  again  very  forceful  adjectives,  and 
the  teacher's  wrath  rises.  He  was  a  tall, 
powerful  man  and  at  last  made  as  though 
he  would  ascend  the  ladder.  But  the  Ger- 
man, knowing  well  what  would  take  place, 
shouted  out,  "Rua,  my  friend,  stop!"  and 
to  the  white  man: 

"You  fool,  come  down  at  once ;  can't  you 
see  that  it  is  our  friend  the  teacher,  and  we 
are  wrong?" 

Rua  was  aroused,  so  when  the  white  man 
came  down  he  handed  him  the  Bible,  and 
ordered  him  to  read  the  verses  he  pointed 
out,  and  at  once.  The  white  man  did  it 
and  then  the  teacher  said : 

"God,  He  speak,  you  no  work  now.  Put 
down  hammer  belong  you." 

There  was  a  quiet  Sabbath  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day. 


A  BREEZE  FROM  GOD 

From  "A  Retrospect,"  by  J.  Hudson  Taylor, 
Founder  of  the  China  Inland  Mission. 

My  first  voyage  to  China  was  a  very 
tedious  one.  We  lost  a  good  deal  of  time 
on  the  equator  from  calms;  and  when  we 
finally  reached  the  Eastern  Archipelago 
were  again  detained  from  the  same  cause. 

Usually  a  breeze  would  spring  up  soon 
after  sunset  and  last  until  about  dawn.  The 
utmost  use  was  made  of  it,  but  during  the 
day  we  would  lie  still  with  flapping  sails, 
often  drifting  back  and  losing  a  good  deal 
of  the  advantage  we  had  gained  during  the 
night. 

This  happened  notably  on  one  occasion 
when  we  were  in  dangerous  proximity  to 
the  north  of  New  Guinea.  Saturday  night 
had  brought  us  to  a  point  some  thirty  miles 
off  land,  but  during  the  Sunday  morning 
service,  which  was  held  on  deck,  I  could  not 
fail  to  notice  that  the  captain  looked  trou*. 
bled,  and  frequently  went  over  to  the  side 
of  the  ship.    When  the  service  was  over  I 

(2 


A  Breeze  from  God  43 

learned  the  cause — a  four-knot  current  was 
carrying  us  rapidly  towards  some  sunken 
reefs,  and  we  were  already  so  near  that  it 
seemed  improbable  that  we  should  get 
through  the  afternoon  in  safety. 

After  dinner  the  long  boat  was  put  out 
and  all  hands  endeavored,  but  without  suc- 
cess, to  turn  the  ship's  head  from  the  shore. 
As  we  drifted  nearer  we  could  plainly  see 
the  natives  rushing  about  the  sands,  light- 
ing fires  every  here  and  there.  The  cap- 
tain's horn-book  informed  him  that  these 
people  were  cannibals,  so  that  our  position 
was  not  a  little  alarming.  After  standing 
together  on  the  deck  for  some  time  in 
silence,  the  captain  said  to  me : 

"Well,  we  have  done  everything  that  can 
be  done ;  we  can  only  await  the  result." 

A  thought  occurred  to  me,  and  I  replied : 
"No,  there  is  one  thing  we  have  not  done 
yet." 

"What  is  it?"  lie  queried. 

"Four  of  us  on  board  are  Qiristians,"  T 
answered  (the  Swedish  carpenter  and  our 
colored  cook,  with  the  captain  and  myself) ; 
"let  us  each  retire  to  our  own  cabin  and  in 
agreed  prayer  ask  the  Lord  to  give  us  im- 
mediately a  breeze.  He  can  as  easily  send 
it  now  as  at  sunset." 


44       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

The  captain  agreed  to  this  proposal.  I 
went  and  spoke  to  the  two  other  men,  and 
after  prayer  with  the  carpenter,  we  all  four 
retired  to  wait  upon  God.  I  had  a  good 
but  very  brief  season  in  prayer,  and  then  felt 
so  satisfied  that  I  could  not  continue  asking 
and  very  soon  went  up  again  on  deck. 

The  first  officer,  a  godless  man,  was  in 
charge.  I  went  over  and  asked  him  to  let 
down  the  clews,  or  corners  of  the  mainsail, 
which  had  been  drawn  up  in  order  to  lessen 
the  useless  flapping  of  the  sail  against  the 
rigging. 

"What  would  be  the  good  of  that?"  he 
asked. 

I  told  him  we  had  been  asking  a  wind 
from  God,  that  it  was  coming  immediately 
and  we  were  so  near  the  reef  by  this  time 
that  there  was  not  a  minute  to  lose.  With 
a  look  of  incredulity  and  contempt,  he  said 
with  an  oath  that  he  would  rather  see  a 
wind  than  hear  of  it!  But  while  he  was 
speaking  I  watched  his  eye  and  followed  it 
up  to  the  royal  (the  topmast  sail),  and 
there,  sure  enough,  the  comer  of  the  sail 
was  beginning  to  tremble  in  the  coming 
breeze. 

"Don't  you  see  the  wind  is  coming? 
Look  at  the  royal!"  I  exclaimed. 


A  Breeze  from  God         45 

"No,  it  is  only  a  cat's  paw,"  he  rejoined 
(a  mere  puff  of  wind). 

"Cat's  paw  or  not,"  I  cried,  "pray  let 
down  the  mainsail  and  let  us  have  the  bene- 
fit." 

This  he  was  not  slow  to  do.  In  another 
minute  the  heavy  tread  of  the  men  on  the 
deck  brought  up  the  captain  from  his  cabin 
to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  sure  enough 
the  breeze  had  come. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  ploughing  our 
way  at  six  or  seven  knots  an  hour  through 
the  water,  and  the  multitude  of  naked  sav- 
ages whom  we  had  seen  on  the  beach  had 
no  wreckage  that  night.  We  were  soon  out 
of  danger  and  though  the  wind  was  some- 
times unsteady,  we  did  not  altogether  lose 
it  until  after  passing  the  Pelew  Islands. 

Thus  God  encouraged  me,  ere  landing  on 
China's  shores,  to  bring  every  variety  of 
need  to  Him  in  prayer  and  to  expect  that  He 
would  honor  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
and  give  the  help  which  each  emergency  re- 
quired. 


DIGGING  THROUGH  TO  ENGLAND 

From  "The  Story  of  Gucheng,"  told  by  the 
Rev.  Samuel  McFarlane,  LL.  D.,  in  The  Mission' 
ary  Review  of  the  World. 

During  the  first  six  months  after  settling 
at  Lifu^  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  the 
water  in  some  large  caverns  near  the  middle 
of  the  island,  though  perfectly  fresh,  rose 
and  fell  with  the  tide. 

It  appeared  from  this  that  the  sea-water 
percolates  through  the  rocks  of  a  coral 
island,  and  the  rain  that  falls  on  it  percolates 
downward  till  it  reaches  the  salt  water,  and 
being  lighter,  does  not  readily  mix  with  it, 
but  is  raised  and  lowered  by  it  as  the  tide 
flows  and  ebbs.  I  felt  that  if  this  were  true 
we  might  dig  wells  and  find  good  water 
about  the  sea-level.  This  would  be  a  great 
blessing,  as  the  only  means  of  storing  rain 
water  was  by  scooping  holes  in  the  trunks 
of  living  cocoanut  trees,  which  were  filled 


^An  island  of  the  Loyalty  group. 
46 


Digging  to  England  47 

by  the  rain  running  down  the  stem.     Of 
course  such  water  was  scarce  and  impure. 

Without  explaining  my  theory  to  the  na- 
tives, I  determined  to  test  it  by  digging  a 
well.  Having  made  a  windlass,  we  com- 
menced operations  on  the  mission  premises 
about  three  yards  from  our  house,  that  I 
might  the  more  easily  superintend  the  work. 

At  first  I  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  na- 
tive labor,  for  although  the  natives  declared 
most  positively  that  there  was  no  chance 
of  finding  water  there,  there  being  no  cav- 
erns near,  they  were  willing  to  dig  some  dis- 
tance to  prove  their  contention  and  dissi- 
pate this  papdi  (foreign)  idea  from  the 
missionary's  mind. 

The  mission  house  was  about  forty  feet 
above  the  sea-level,  so  that  I  knew  we  must 
dig  the  well  that  depth  before  there  was 
any  reasonable  hope  of  finding  water.  When, 
however,  they  had  reached  a  depth  of  about 
twenty  feet,  they  threw  down  their  tools 
and  positively  refused  to  descend  the  well 
again.  I  tried  to  engage  others  to  continue 
the  work,  but  could  not  succeed.  It  seems 
the  matter  had  been  publicly  discussed,  and 
the  whole  population  had  pronounced 
against  well-digging. 

The  young  people  in  our  school  were 


48       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

about  this  time  becoming  acquainted  with 
the  mysteries  of  geography.  They  told 
their  parents  and  relatives  that  the  world 
was  round,  and  that  Peretania  (Britain) 
was  on  the  other  side  immediately  under- 
neath Lifu.  This  astounding  statement 
would  have  been  scouted  had  it  not  been  for 
the  digging  of  this  well.  They  had  as  yet 
very  hazy  ideas  about  distances,  but  it  was 
enough  for  them  to  know  the  position  of  my 
icountry.  They  thought  they  saw  clearly 
my  object  in  digging  the  well.  To  look  for 
water  at  such  a  place  was  an  evidence  of 
folly  that  could  not  be  squared  with  their 
exalted  ideas  of  the  missionary ;  but  to  make 
a  hole  through  the  earth,  and  be  let  down 
and  hauled  up  by  a  windlass  was  an  idea 
worthy  of  the  white  man! 

They  knew  something  of  the  dangers  of 
short  voyages,  but  what  must  a  voyage  to 
Peretania  be !  They  all  saw  clearly  that  the 
well  was  to  be  a  "short  cut"  to  visit  my 
home. 

Then  the  effects  of  this  route  were  se- 
riously discussed.  The  making  of  the  hole 
through  the  earth  would  mean  for  them  an 
enormous  amount  of  labor,  and  judging 
from  themselves,  they  felt  that  if  I  had  such 
an  easy  way  of  visiting  my  home,  I  should 


Digging  to  England  49 

be  going  very  often ;  and  then  there  was  the 
labor  of  lowering  me  down  and  winding 
me  up;  then  some  day  they  might  find  the 
bucket  empty,  I  having  decided  to  remain 
at  home.  Altogether  the  labor  and  risk  was 
too  great,  so  they  resolved  that  the  well 
should  not  be  dug. 

I  had  to  fall  back  upon  my  faithful 
henchman,  Gucheng,  who  got  three  friends 
to  help  him,  on  my  promising  not  to  go 
below  the  sea-level.  This  promise  secured 
the  continuance  of  the  work  and  proved  a 
great  relief  to  public  anxiety. 

"If  the  missionary  is  really  digging  for 
water,"  said  the  natives,  "and  has  promised 
not  to  go  below  the  sea-level,  then  the  work 
will  soon  be  done  and  he  will  have  got  his 
experience,  and  we  shall  hear  no  more  of 
digging  holes  in  dry  places  to  find  water." 

Week  after  week  the  work  went  on  mer- 
rily, very  merrily  indeed,  sometimes  I 
thought,  as  I  heard  the  laughing  and  jokes 
when  their  friends,  and  also  strangers  from 
a  distance,  paid  a  visit  of  inspection. 

I  had  measured  carefully  the  distance  we 
were  above  sea-level,  and  kept  a  daily  rec- 
ord of  the  exact  depth  of  the  well,  so  that 
I  knew  when  to  expect  water  if  we  were 
to  get  any.    I  watched  my  chance  when  the 


50       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

bottom  of  the  well  was  near  the  sea-level, 
and  when  half  a  dozen  natives  were  standing 
at  the  top  I  walked  across  from  my  study 
and  asked  if  they  had  not  found  water  yet. 
The  idea  was  evidently  amusing  to  them, 
and  they  seemed  particularly  anxious  to  im- 
press upon  my  mind  that  they  were  not 
seeking  water  at  such  a  place. 

"The  eakune  k'o,  ngo  nyipeti  pe"  (not 
we,  but  yoti),  they  said. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  had  better  go  down 
myself  and  see  if  I  can  find  water." 

One  wag  hinted  that  this  might  have  been 
done  from  the  first  with  very  good  results. 
However,  none  of  them  supposed  that  I 
really  intended  descending  the  well,  but  I 
insisted  on  the  two  men  coming  up,  I  did 
not  trust  them  to  lower  me  down  standing 
in  the  bucket  as  they  generally  did,  but 
slipped  down  the  rope,  and  at  once  set  to 
work  with  the  crowbar  digging  out  a  small 
hole  in  the  middle  of  the  well,  looking  every 
now  and  then  at  the  point  to  see  if  it  was 
wet. 

While  thus  engaged  the  natives  at  the  top 
were  having  a  good  time  at  my  expense. 
Questions  were  shouted  down  the  well,  fol- 
lowed by  roars  of  laughter : 

"Haven't  you  found  water  yet?** 


Digging  to  England  51 

"We  are  dying  of  thirst!" 

"Take  care  you  don't  get  drowned !"  etc. 

After  a  time  I  began  to  get  quite  excited 
myself,  as  I  thought  the  point  of  the  bar 
seemed  wet.  Soon  there  was  no  mistake; 
it  was  wet!    There  was  water!! 

I  shouted  to  the  natives  at  the  top  to  get 
a  pannikin  from  my  wife  and  send  it  down 
In  the  bucket  and  I  would  send  them  up 
some  water  from  the  well.  They,  suppos- 
ing that  I  was  responding  to  their  jokes, 
asked  what  would  be  the  use  of  a  small  pan- 
nikin of  water  among  half  a  dozen  thirsty 
people,  and  begged  me  to  send  up  a  bucket- 
ful. However,  the  pannikin  was  lowered 
down.  By  this  time  the  water  had  perco- 
lated into  the  small  hole  I  dug  in  the  middle 
of  the  well,  enabling  me  to  get  half  a  pan- 
nikin full,  which  I  sent  to  the  top. 

The  effect  was  instantaneous  and  comi- 
cal. Each  tasted  the  dirty  water  and  pro- 
nounced it  the  sweetest  and  best  on  the 
island.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  brackish, 
as  we  were  too  near  the  sea  to  get  good 
fresh  water.  The  news  spread  through  the 
village  like  wild  fire,  and  was  passed  from 
village  to  village  with  astonishing  rapidity. 
The  report  was,  that  while  their  countrymen 
had  been  digging  for  months  and  could  not 


52      Fifty  Missionary  Stones 

find  water,  the  Missionary  had  gone  down 
the  well  and  found  it  in  less  than  half  an 
hour! 

After  digging  down  as  far  as  we  could  at 
the  lowest  tide  we  had  always  an  abundant 
supply,  which  being  only  slightly  brackish, 
was  used  by  the  natives  and  for  general 
purposes  on  the  mission  premises. 

The  Roman  Catholic  priest  at  Lifu,  living 
at  an  inland  village  about  a  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea-level,  also  determined  to  dig 
a  well.  The  work  extended  over  a  year, 
owing  to  the  hardness  of  the  rock  and  the 
necessity  for  blasting  operations. 

During  these  proceedings  the  priest  re- 
ceived a  deputation  of  natives  which  much 
amused  him.  Their  object  was  to  induce 
him  to  try  and  secure  my  services  for  the 
well.  They  did  not  suggest  that  he  might 
find  water  if  he  went  down,  but  said : 

*'Ask  the  Missionary  to  go  down ;  he  will 
soon  find  water!" 

I  may  say  that  they  found  excellent  water 
at  the  sea-level,  which  proved  a  great  bless- 
kig  to  the  people  of  the  village. 


A  LIVING  WITNESS 
From  The  Missionary  Review  of  the  World. 

When  Bishop  Weeks,  of  Africa — at  that 
time  not  having  been  promoted  to  wear  the 
mitre — was  traveUng  in  England,  a  gentle- 
man who  was  in  the  same  railway  carriage 
with  him  began  to  attack  him  as  a  friend  of 
missions. 

"What,"  said  he,  "are  the  missionaries 
doing  abroad  ?  We  do  not  hear  much  about 
their  movements.  We  pay  them  pretty  well, 
but  hear  nothing  from  them.  I  suppose 
they  are  sitting  down  quietly  and  making 
themselves  comfortable." 

Beside  Mr.  Weeks  sat  another  traveler, 
as  black  as  any  of  the  natives  of  the  Dark 
Continent,  and  himself  an  unmistakable 
negro.  He  quietly  waited  until  the  stranger 
had  exhausted  his  tirade  against  missions, 
and  then,  making  a  sign  of  silence  to  Mr. 
Weeks,  begged  to  be  permitted  to  reply  to 
the  critic. 

"Sir,"  he  said,  "allow  me  to  present  my- 
self to  you  as  a  result  of  the  labor  of  the 


54      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

missionaries  whose  work  you  have  been  de- 
preciating." Pointing  to  Mr.  Weeks  he 
continued,  "I  am  an  African,  and  this  man 
is  the  means  of  my  having  become  a  Chris- 
tian, and  of  my  coming  to  this  country  in 
the  capacity  of  a  Christian  minister." 

The  man  who  had  assaulted  Christian 
missions  looked  upon  the  black  man  beside 
him  with  a  look  of  mingled  embarrassment 
and  amazement.  He  could  not  be  mistaken ; 
there  was  a  genuine,  typical  African,  flat- 
nosed,  thick-lipped,  with  retreating  fore- 
head, and  short,  curly  hair;  yet  that  negro 
addressed  him  in  the  elegant  language  of  an 
educated  and  accomplished  EngHshman. 
He  had  felt  all  the  refining  power  of  the 
gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  there 
were  in  the  very  tones  of  his  voice  and  his 
whole  manner  the  unmistakable  signs  of  a 
Christian  gentleman. 

The  accuser  of  missions  sank  into  a  rev- 
erie. He  had  no  more  to  say  as  an  objector. 
That  one  man  was  both  a  compensation  for, 
and  a  vindication  of.  Christian  missions. 
And  soon  he  resumed  the  conversation,  but 
in  a  different  tone;  he  began  to  talk  with 
Mr.  Weeks  upon  missionary  topics  as  an 
interested  and  engrossed  listener. 


A  Living  Witness  55 

That  black  man  was  none  other  than 
Samuel  Adjai  Crowther,  afterwards  conse- 
crated as  the  first  native  bishop  of  the 
Niger  I 


AFRICAN  CURIOSITY 

From  "Peril  and  Adventure  in  Central  Africa, 
being  illustrated  by  letters  to  his  nieces  and 
nephews  at  home,"  by  Bishop  Hannington. 

In  some  of  the  places  I  passed  through 
in  Central  Africa,  they  had  never  seen  a 
white  man  before.  They  would  gather 
round  me  in  dozens,  and  gaze  upon  me  v.'ith 
the  utmost  astonishment. 

One  would  suggest  that  I  was  not  beau- 
tiful— in  plainer  language  that  I  was  am:-iz- 
ingly  ugly.  Fancy  a  set  of  hideous  sav- 
ages regarding  a  white  man,  regarding 
your  uncle,  as  a  strange,  outlandish  crea- 
ture, frightful  to  behold. 

As  with  other  travelers,  my  boots  hardly 
ever  failed  to  attract  attention. 

"Are  those  your  feet,  white  man?" 

"No,  gentlemen,  they  are  not.  They  are 
my  sandals." 

"But  do  they  grow  to  your  feet?" 

"No,  gentlemen,  they  do  not.  I  will  show 
you." 

So  forthwith  I  proceed  to  unlace  a  boot. 

56 


African  Curiosity  57 

A  roar  of  astonishment  followed  when  they 
beheld  my  blue  sock,  as  they  generally  sur- 
mised that  my  feet  were  blue  and  toeless. 
Greater  astonishment  still  followed  the 
withdrawal  of  the  sock  and  the  revelation 
of  a  white,  five-toed  foot.  I  frequently 
found  that  they  considered  that  only  the 
visible  parts  of  me  were  white,  namely  my 
hands  and  face,  and  that  the  rest  of  me 
was  as  black  as  they  were. 

An  almost  endless  source  of  amusement 
was  the  immense  amount  of  clothing,  ac- 
cording to  their  calculation,  that  I  pos- 
sessed. That  I  should  have  waistcoat  and 
shirt  and  jersey  underneath  a  coat,  seemed 
almost  incredible,  and  the  more  so  when 
I  told  them  it  was  chiefly  on  account  of 
the  sun  I  wore  so  much.  My  watch,  too, 
was  an  unfailing  attraction. 

"There's  a  man  in  it!" 

"It  is  Lubari;  it  is  witchcraft!"  they 
would  cry. 

"He  talks ;  he  says  'Teek,  teek,  teek,' " 

My  nose  they  compared  to  a  spear;  it 
struck  them  as  so  sharp  and  thin  compared 
with  the  African  production.  Oftentimes  one 
bolder  than  the  rest  would  give  my  hair  and 
beard  a  sharp  pull,  thinking  them  wigs  worn 
for  ornament- 


58       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

Many  of  them  had  a  potent  horror  of 
this  white  ghost,  and  a  snap  of  the  fingers 
or  the  stamp  of  a  foot  was  enough  to  send 
them  flying  helter-skelter  from  my  tent, 
around  which  they  generally  crowded  in 
ranks  five  deep. 

For  once  in  the  day  this  was  amusing 
enough;  but  when  it  came  to  be  repeated 
every  day  and  all  day,  one  had  really  a 
little  too  much  of  a  good  thing. 


A  SEARCH  FOR  A  WORD 

From  "Sketches  from  the  Dark  Continent,"  by 
Willis  R.  Hotchkiss,  Missionary  of  the  Society  of 
Friends  in  West  Central  Africa. 

The  caravan  is  slowly  and  painfully  wind- 
ing its  way  among  the  rocks  up  the  steep 
mountain  sides  into  Ukamba  land.  Women 
and  children  working  in  the  fields  run  in 
terror  before  the  white  man's  approach,  but 
a  few  young  warriors,  bolder  than  the  rest, 
come  closer,  and  when  we  stop  to  rest, 
spring  up  like  magic  all  around  us. 

Stork-like,  they  stand  on  one  foot,  the 
other  being  drawn  up  and  resting  on  the 
knee.  Stolidly  they  gaze  for  a  little  while, 
but  curiosity  finally  gets  the  better  of  them, 
and  they  begin  pointing,  and — is  that  lan- 
guage? Are  they  really  talking?  What  a 
meaningless  jargon!  And  we  must  learn 
that!  without  grammar  or  vocabulary  we 
must  bring  order  out  of  this  chaos  of 
sounds. 

An  inquisitive  young  fellow,  pointing  to 
something,  utters  a  single  word,  "Nichau?" 

59 


6o       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

What  does  he  mean?  We  conclude  that 
he  is  asking  "What  is  it?"  In  order  to 
prove  it,  I  point  to  the  nearest  object,  which 
happens  to  be  his  bow,  and  to  his  surprise, 
I  say,  "Nichau?"  He  hesitates  and  then 
answers  "Uta." 

The  two  words  are  hastily  jotted  down 
phonetically  and  we  have  the  beginning 
of  the  Kikamba  vocabulary. 

Day  after  day,  through  the  months  and 
years  that  follow,  we  fling  that  word, 
"Nichau?"  in  their  teeth,  and  pester  them 
with  it  on  every  occasion,  until  we  have 
mastered  several  thousand  words. 

How  we  long  to  preach  the  Gospel  to 
the  multitudes  who  are  perishing  all  about 
us !  Yet  it  was  long  after  we  were  able  to 
converse  on  ordinary  topics,  before  we 
could  intelligently  set  before  them  spiritual 
things. 

For  two  years  and  a  half  I  searched  in 
vain  to  obtain  one  word.  But  it  was  the 
word  that  has  belted  the  world  in  praise; 
the  word  that  brings  order  out  of  the  chaos 
of  man's  vain  search  after  Grod;  the  word 
that  is  yet  destined  to  make  dark  Africa 
light  in  the  Lord.  That  word  was  "Savior." 
Never  had  it  seemed  so  sweet,  so  incom- 
parably beautiful !    What  a  big  thing  it  be* 


Search  for  a  Word  6i 

came  to  me  in  those  days!  It  loomed  up 
before  me  in  my  thoughts  by  day  and  in 
my  dreams  by  night. 

You  who  have  never  known  its  lack  can- 
not realize  how  vast  a  place  it  occupies  in 
the  scheme  of  redemption.  All  the  many 
months  in  which  I  had  endeavored  to  give 
out  the  glad  message,  I  had  been  com- 
pelled to  circle  all  about  the  idea  of  salva- 
tion, with  labored  sentences  telling  what 
should  have  taken  a  single  word. 

Hour  after  hour  I  sat  with  Kikuvi  and 
others,  trying  in  every  conceivable  way  to 
draw  out  the  magic  word.  The  very  day 
on  which  my  search  was  ended,  I  had  no 
less  than  five  persons  in  my  room,  ques- 
tioning, explaining,  but  all  to  no  avail. 

Darkness  had  thrown  its  mantle  over  the 
sad,  sickening  scenes  of  the  day,  and  was 
covering  sadder  sights  of  revelry  and  sin 
by  night.  Even  the  brilliant  vault  of  the 
equatorial  sky  is  hidden  behind  thick  masses 
of  clouds,  and  only  the  mournful  howl  of 
the  hyena  is  heard  in  the  land. 

With  the  master  passion  tugging  at  my 
heart,  I  went  to  the  men's  quarters  and 
seated  myself  with  them  around  the  blaz- 
ing campfire.  Minutely  they  recounted  the 
incidents   of  the   day,   and   Kikuvi — the 


62       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

most  intelligent  and  trustworthy  native  I 
ever  saw — launched  into  a  story  that  made 
me  hopeful  of  getting  the  long-sought-for 
word. 

Brother  Kreiger,  laboring  in  another 
tribe,  had  been  badly  torn  by  a  lion,  and 
Kikuvi  had  been  the  means  of  his  rescue. 
Surely  the  word  must  come  now !  Two 
years  and  a  half  of  disappointment  were 
put  into  the  eagerness  with  which  I  lis- 
tened. He  went  through  the  whole  scene 
most  eloquently,  but  concluded,  even  to 
having  frightened  the  lioness  away,  with- 
out using  the  word  for  which  I  was  seek- 
ing. Finally,  however,  just  as  I  was  about 
to  give  up  again  in  despair,  in  a  modest 
sort  of  way,  he  remarked: 

"Bwana  nukuthaniwa  na  Kikuvi"  (the 
master  was  saved  by  Kikuvi). 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  thrill  of  pleasure 
that  swept  over  me.  I  could  have  leaped 
for  my  exuberance  of  joy !  Being  afraid  of 
losing  my  precious  possession,  I  immedi- 
ately changed  the  verb  from  the  passive  to 
the  active  form,  and  said: 

"Ukuthania  Bwana?"  (you  saved  the 
master?)    This  proving  correct,  I  said: 

''Why  Kikuvi,  this  is  the  word  I  have 
been  trying  to  get  you  to  tell  me  these  many 


Search  for  a  Word  63 

days,  because  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that 
Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  came" — 

"O  yes,"  he  interrupted,  and  his  black 
face  lighted  up  as  he  turned  to  me  in  the 
lurid  light  of  the  campfire,  "I  see  it  now, 
I  understand!  Jesus  came  to  'Kuthania' 
(save)  us  from  our  sins,  and  to  deliver  us 
from  the  hands  of  'Muimu'  (Satan)." 

Never  did  sweeter  words  fall  from  mor- 
tal lips.  At  last  the  treasure  was  discov- 
ered, and  no  weary  prospector,  lighting 
suddenly  upon  rich  gold  reef,  ever  felt 
keener  emotions  that  did  the  lonely  mis- 
sionary, when  for  the  first  time  he  was  able 
to  frame  that  matchless  word,  "Savior,''  in 
the  unknown  tongue.  It  was,  too,  the  first 
real  evidence  I  had  had  in  all  those  months 
that  the  message  spoken  had  been  grasped 
at  all. 

Completely  overcome,  I  rushed  into  the 
house  and  fell  on  my  face  in  thanksgiving 
before  God. 

Next  day  was  the  Sabbath.  In  the  early 
morning  I  was  sitting  in  my  house  singing 
a  rough  translation  of  a  hymn  I  had  just 
made,  and  accompanying  it  on  my  guitar, 
when  Kikuvi  came  in  and  said  there  was 
a  crowd  outside  who  wanted  to  hear  me.  I 
went  out  with  joy-bells  ringing  in  my  soul. 


64       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

and  sang  for  them.  But  I  wanted  to  preach 
— to  set  before  them  my  great  discovery. 

"Muthania !  Savior !" — it  rang  through 
my  being  like  music. 

I  began  to  speak  to  them,  but  before  long 
I  was  interrupted  by  Kikuvi  with  a  query 
relative  to  the  resurrection,  which  is  al- 
ways an  amazing  thing  to  them.  This  was 
encouraging,  for  questions  betoken  interest 
and  aid  greatly  in  the  work.  His  question 
answered,  he  surprised  me  still  more  by 
saying : 

"Master,  let  me  talk  a  little." 

Wondering  what  he  would  say,  I  gave 
him  permission,  and  in  a  truly  marvelous 
way,  he  began  to  tell  the  "old,  old  story." 

I  listened  in  amazement.  I  could  scarce- 
ly believe  that  he  had  grasped  the  thought 
so  intelligently  from  the  fragmentary  way 
I  had  been  compelled  to  preach  to  them. 
jBut  the  flash  of  intelligence  by  the  camp- 
fire  the  night  before  explained  it  all.  The 
moment  the  word  "Savior"  dawned  upon 
his  darkened  vision,  all  the  scattered  frag- 
ments of  truth  that  had  been  floating  about 
in  his  darkened  mind  fell  into  line,  and  be- 
came one  glorious  revelation. 

Yes,  and  it  brought  a  revelation  to  me  as 
well.     In  the  light  of  that  experience,  it 


Search  for  a  Word  65 

seemed  as  though  I  had  never  before  known 
the  meaning  of  the  word  "Savior." 

I  had  spoken  it  from  childhood;  had 
preached  it  for  years;  but  somehow,  it  be- 
came luminous  with  meaning  that  night. 
Over  against  the  frightful  need  that  set- 
tled down  around  me,  there  flashed  a  light 
unutterable,  and  a  scarred  hand  traced  in 
letters  of  glory, 

"M-U-T-H-A-N-I-A." 


PREACHING  TO  THE  "DOGS  " 

From  "The  Lives  of  Robert  and  Mary  Moffat," 
by  their  son,  John  S.  Moffat. 

One  evening,  while  journeying  from 
Cape  Town  to  Namaqualand,  Robert  Mof- 
fat^ halted  at  a  farm  which  showed  signs  of 
belonging  to  a  man  of  wealth  and  import- 
tance,  who  had  many  slaves. 

The  old  patriarch,  hearing  that  he  was  a 
missionary,  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome, 
and  proposed  that  in  the  evening  he  should 
give  them  a  service.  No  proposal  could 
have  been  more  acceptable,  and  he  sat  down 
to  the  plain  but  plentiful  meal  with  a  light 
heart.  The  sons  and  daughters  came  in. 
Supper  ended,  a  clearance  was  made,  the 
big  Bible  and  the  psalm-books  were  brought 
out,  and  the  family  was  seated. 

*'But  where  are  the  servants  ?"  asked  Mof- 
fat. 

"Servants!    What  do  you  mean?" 


^This  was  in  1817,  shortly  after  Moffat  reached 
Africa.  He  was  not  quite  twenty-two  years  old 
at  the  time. 

66 


Preaching  to  Dogs  67 

"I  mean  the  Hottentots  of  whom  I  see 
so  many  on  your  farm," 

"Hottentots!  Do  you  mean  that,  then  I 
Let  me  go  to  the  mountains  and  call  the 
baboons,  if  you  want  a  congregation  of  that 
sort.  Or  stop,  I  have  it;  my  son,  call  the 
dogs  that  lie  in  front  of  the  door — they  will 
do." 

The  missionary  quietly  dropped  an  at- 
tempt which  threatened  a  wrathful  ending 
and  commenced  the  service.  The  psalm 
was  sung,  prayer  was  offered,  and  the 
preacher  read  the  story  of  the  Syrophoeni- 
cian  woman,  selecting  more  especially  the 
words,  "Truth,  Lord,  but  even  the  dogs 
eat  of  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  mas- 
ter's table."  He  had  not  spoken  many  min- 
utes when  the  voice  of  the  old  man  was 
heard  again: 

"Will  Mynheer  sit  down  and  wait  a  lit- 
tle; he  shall  have  the  Hottentots." 

The  summons  was  given,  the  motley 
crowd  trooped  in — many  who  probably  had 
never  been  within  the  door  of  their  master's 
house  before,  and  many  more  who  never  be- 
fore had  heard  the  voice  of  a  preacher. 

When  the  service  was  over  and  the  as- 
tonished Hottentots  had  dispersed,  the  old 
farmer  turned  to  his  guest  and  said : 


68       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

"My  friend,  you  took  a  hard  hammer, 
and  you  have  broken  a  hard  head." 

This  instance  must  not  be  taken  as  rep- 
resenting the  universal  feeling  of  a  class. 
Even  in  those  days  there  were  God-fearing 
Boers  who  did  their  best  for  their  slaves, 
and  now,*  thanks  to  the  labors  of  many 
devoted  ministers,  there  is  a  true  and  grow- 
ing missionary  spirit  in  the  Dutch  popula- 
tion of  South  Africa. 


^This  was  written  in  1885. 


A  CAUTIOUS  SCOTCHMAN 

From  "The  Lives  of  Robert  and  Mary  Moffat," 
by  their  son,  John  S.  Moffat. 

In  1872,  when  Robert  Moffat  visited  His 
boyhood  home  at  Carronshore,^  which  he 
had  not  seen  for  more  than  sixty  years,  a 
quaint,  old-fashioned  little  Scotch  woman 
ran  up  to  him,  seized  him  by  both  hands, 
and  then  quite  speechless  with  excitement, 
stood  gazing  up  into  his  face,  while  he 
looked  down  on  her  with  a  benign,  but  puz- 
zled smile. 

"Are — you — really — ^the — great  Moffat  ?'* 
she  at  last  gasped  out. 

"Well,  I  believe  I  must  be  the  person 
you  refer  to,  whether  great  or  not.  Why 
do  you  ask?" 

"Why!  Because  I  was  at  the  skule  wi* 
ye — ^my  name  is  Mary  Kay,  and  you'll 
surely  come  to  mind  me.  I  sat  in  the  class 
next  ye,  and  ye  often  helped  me  wi'  my 


*The   Moffats   lived  at  Carronshore,   in   Scot- 
land, from  1806  to  1809. 

69 


JO      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

lessons.  I  have  aye  keepit  my  e'e  on  you 
since  you  left  Carronshore.  I  was  aye  sure 
you  would  come  back  to  this  place  some 
day;  and  though  I  didna  expect  ye,  the 
noo,  I'm  fair  daft  wi'  joy  at  seeing  ye." 

Dr.  Moffat  was  anxious  to  know  if  any 
more  of  his  schoolmates  were  still  alive  and 
resident  in  the  locality.  Mary  Kay  could 
tell  of  only  one,  and  she  was  away  on  a 
visit.  But  there  was  a  master  tailor  in  the 
village  who  might  perhaps  remember  him; 
it  was  worth  calling  to  see.  The  old  man 
was  found,  cross-legged  on  his  board,  busy 
at  work. 

"Andrew,  man,"  said  Mary  Kay,  by  way 
of  introduction,  "here's  Moffat  come  to  see 
you,  the  great  missionary  from  Africa." 
"Aye,  aye,  maybe  he  be,"  replied  the  cau- 
tious Andrew,  "but  there  are  plenty  of  folks 
ganging  about  the  country  noo-o-days  pass- 
in'  themsel's  off  as  great  men,  and  they  are 
just  a  wheen  impostors." 

This  was  rather  a  staggering  response, 
but  it  was  met  with : 

"O  man,  Andrew,  are  you  no  believin* 
me,  and  I've  kenned  him  mysel'  a'  my  days." 

On  this  Andrew  stopped  his  needle  for 
the  first  time,  looked  around  at  Dr.  Moffat, 
and  in  an  oracular  tone,  said : 


A  Cautious  Scotchman        71 


"Are  you  aware,  sir!  that  if  you  were 
really  the  person  you  represent  yourself  to 
be,  you  would  be  the  father-in-law  of  Liv- 
ingstone, the  African  explorer?" 

"And  so  I  be." 

This  quiet  reply  from  the  doctor  was 
rousing;  th^  crossed  legs  at  once,  became 
straight  and  perpendicular.  Andrew  raised 
his  spectacles  to  get  a  fuller  view  ^of  his 
visitor,  and  exclaimed: 

"Is  it  possible  that  the  father-in-laV  of 
Livingstone  Stands  before  tne,  and  unde^my 
humble  roof?" 

His  doubts  dispelled,  h^  tried  by  eff^t- 
ive  expressions   of   regret  to  'make  amen  is 
for  the  somewhat  rude,  incredulity  that  h;  c 
marked  the  Yeceptit5ii  of  the  great  missio  \ 

\ 


A  WONDERFUL  CART 

From  "The  Story  of  the  Life  of  Mackay  of 
Uganda,"  told  for  boys  by  his  sister. 

After  the  mission  was  reinforced,  Mac- 
kay began  to  build  a  house  for  their  accom- 
modation. As  it  was  the  first  of  its  kind 
in  Uganda,  the  people  never  tired  of  watch- 
ing it. 

Early  in  1882  the  wonderful  building  was 
finished  and  the  fame  of  it  spread  far  and 
wide,  so  that  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor, 
went  to  see  it.  Windows!  and  hinged 
doors  with  a  lock!  A  double  story  and  a 
stair  with  a  balustrade!  Such  things  had 
never  been  dreamed  of. 

Then,  stranger  still,  "the  white  man  had 
made  an  oven  in  which  he  baked  bread." 
He  also  made  a  brick-kiln,  and  having  at 
last  succeeded  in  getting  his  machinery 
from  Kagei,  he  erected  a  steam  sawmill. 

But  the  wonder  of  wonders  was  the  cart, 
which  he  painted  brightly  in  red  and  blue. 

Having  broken  in  a  couple  of  bullocks 
to  pull  it,  Mackay  set  of£  one  day  to  the 
n 


A  Wonderful  Cart  73 

market,  three  miles  distant,  to  buy  a  load 
of  plantains.  When  he  got  there  it  was 
raining  heavily  and  no  one  about,  so  he 
unyoked,  and  went  to  see  a  young  elephant 
which  had  just  been  caught.  Meanwhile, 
the  king,  to  whom  everything  was  reported, 
heard  that  Mackay  had  come  to  market  and 
had  left  disappointed  because  no  one  was 
there.  So  he  ordered  his  wives  to  go  at 
once  and  sell  plantains,  and  to  take  a  good 
look  at  the  cart,  so  as  to  be  able  to  tell  him 
all  about  it! 

The  native  curiosity  as  to  how  he  fastened 
the  oxen  in  was  amusing  indeed.  Most  of 
the  people  believed  that  he  tied  them  on  by 
the  tail. 

"Off  we  went,"  he  says,  "and  the  crowd 
after  us,  down  the  steep  hill.  I  clapped 
on  the  brake,  and  then  kept  the  cart  from 
overpowering  the  oxen.  At  the  foot  I 
jumped  in  amid  the  delighted  yells  of  all. 

"At  every  step  the  crowd  grew,  and 
lyelled  and  screamed  with  delight,  and  at 
every  yell  the  oxen  increased  their  pace; 
but  all  ran  along,  before,  beside  and  behind, 
until  I  had  a  roaring  retinue  a  thousand 
strong,  a  procession  quite  as  great  as  if  the 
Kabaka  himself  had    headed   it.     Panting 


74       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

and  breathless  they  followed  to  the  swamp, 
or  more  than  a  mile. 

"Here  we  had  to  outspan  and  cross  with 
care,  but  with  no  mishap.  Yoked  again, 
and  drove  home,  but  a  new  crowd  collected, 
and  it  was  difficult  with  their  noise  to  pre- 
vent the  oxen  from  being  injured  by  going 
so  fast." 

A  few  days  after  this  adventure,  Man- 
oga,  a  chief,  the  king's  tailor  and  factotum, 
called  on  Mackay  and  remained  to  dinner. 

He  said  that  they  had  been  talking  in 
court  about  the  journey  in  the  cart,  and 
that  the  king  had  been  told  that  it  was  a 
most  formidable  affair,  and  that  it  was  un- 
controllable and  killed  people. 

Mackay  thereupon  put  the  chief  in  the 
cart  and  drove  him  along  the  walk  in  front 
of  the  Mission-house,  with  his  own  hands. 
He  was  delighted,  and  expressed  his  won- 
der that  people  should  say  such  things 
about  the  cart,  seeing  that  it  could  be  made 
to  go  fast  or  slow,  at  pleasure. 

One  wonders  at  such  childishness,  but 
Mackay  had  ever  such  idle  suspicions  to 
contend  with. 

Whether  he  drew  water  from  the  depths 
of  the  earth,  and  made  it  flow  through  a 
pump,  or  whether  he  showed  them  how  to 


A  Wonderful  Cart  75 

catch  the  sun's  rays  in  a  lens,  until  they 
danced  and  screamed  with  delight,  sooner 
or  later  the  majority  were  sure  to  attribute 
the  marvelous  powers  of  the  white  man  to 
witchcraft. 

Still,  as  such  work  awoke  the  interest  in 
the  native,  and  helped  to  educate  them,  he 
did  not  allow  himself  to  be  discouraged, 
but  continued  to  prosecute  all  kinds  of  work 
for  the  public  weal.  He  made  them  bridges 
and  viaducts  that  excited  the  greatest  as- 
tonishment and  spared  no  pains  to  prove  to 
them  that  he  had  their  interests  at  heart. 

Time  at  last  removed  suspicion  and  en- 
abled them  to  see  that  he  who  did  so  much 
for  their  temporal  needs  must  be  in  earnest 
when  he  pressed  home  Divine  truths  also. 


MACKAY  AS  UNDERTAKER 

From  "The  Story  of  the  Life  of  Mackay  of 
Uganda,"  told  for  boys  by  his  sister. 

The  morning  after  Namasole*  died,  Mr. 
O'Flaherty  and  I  went  to  court  to  pay  our 
respects  to  the  king.  All  the  chiefs  were 
clad  in  rags,  and  crying,  or  rather  roaring, 
with  their  hands  clasped  above  their  heads. 

Mtesa  determined  to  make  a  funeral  to 
surpass  in  splendor  any  that  had  ever  taken 
place  in  the  country.  Such  is  the  desire  of 
every  king  to  outstrip  his  predecessors. 
Fifty  thousand  bark  cloths  were  ordered  to 
be  levied  in  the  land,  besides  some  thou- 
sands of  yards  of  English  calico. 

"How  do  you  bury  royalty  in  Europe?" 
Mtesa  asked  me. 

"We  make  three  coffins,"  I  replied,  "the 
inner  of  wood,  the  next  of  lead,  and  the 
outer  of  wood  covered  with  cloth." 

The  custom  of  the  Baganda  in  burying 
their  kings  was  to  wrap  the  body — after 

^Namasole  was  the  Queen  Dowager  of  Ugan- 
da, mother  of  Mtesa,  the  reigning  king. 

n 


Mackay  as  Undertaker       ^'j 

mummifying  it — in  several  thousand  bark 
cloths,  and  bury  the  great  pile  in  a  huge 
grave,  building  a  house  over  all  and  ap- 
pointing certain  witches  to  guard  it  for  gen- 
erations. 

"Would  you  be  able  to  make  the  three 
coffins?"  Mtesa  asked. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "if  you  find  the  ma- 
terial." 

He  said  he  had  no  lead,  but  he  had  a  lot 
of  copper  trays  and  drums  if  I  could  make 
a  coffin  out  of  them.  We  had  been  fre- 
quently twitted  by  the  king  for  failing  to 
work  for  him ;  so  I  agreed  to  be  undertaker, 
thinking  it  a  small  thing. 

But  the  dimensions !  Everything  was  to 
be  made  as  large  as  possible!  Immediately 
all  the  copper  in  the  king's  stores  was 
turned  out,  and  sent  down  to  our  Mission. 
Fine  large  bronze  trays  of  Egyptian  work- 
manship (presents  probably  from  General 
Gordon),  copper  drums,  cans,  pots  and 
plates — all  were  produced,  and  out  of  them 
I  was  to  make  a  coffin  for  the  queen.  All 
the  artificers  were  ordered  to  my  assist- 
ance. 

Next  morning  I  went  off  to  Rusaka, 
where  the  queen  died,  to  measure  the  body. 
Much  objection  was  made  by  the  royal  la- 


78       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

dies  to  my  doing  this,  but  my  friend  Kyam- 
balango  was  there  as  master  of  ceremonies, 
and  he  explained  that  I  was  commissioned 
by  the  king. 

I  was  somewhat  taken  aback  on  being 
told  by  some  of  the  chiefs  that  I  should  not 
have  measured  the  corpse,  but  the  grave, 
making  the  coffins  to  fit  the  latter!  I  told 
them  that  there  was  not  copper  enough  in 
the  kingdom  to  make  a  box  of  that  size; 
that  if  there  was,  I  would  willingly  make  a 
coffin  as  large  as  a  mountain ;  but  as  it  was, 
I  would  make  the  inner  coffins  to  suit  the 
body,  and  the  outer  one  as  large  as  a  house, 
if  they  liked. 

I  got  all  the  native  smiths  together,  and 
all  hands  set  to  work  beating  out  the  cop- 
per into  f^at  plates.  Tools  of  course  we 
had  to  supply,  for  punching,  shearing  and 
riveting,  and  before  a  couple  of  days  were 
over,  the  native  smiths  thought  good  to  steal 
a  drill.  How  many  copper  nails  they  stole 
no  one  knows,  but  they  certainly  disap- 
peared faster  than  the  work  required. 

Meanwhile,  Gabunda,  the  "Grand  Ad- 
miral" and  lord  of  the  lake,  had  gone  to 
the  forest  for  wood.  He  just  brought  broad 
planks,  adzed  by  canoe-builders,  but  so  ir- 
regular and  crooked  that  they  were  fit  for 


Mackay  as  Undertaker       79 

little  or  nothing.  A  huge  tree  had  been 
chopped  down  to  make  two  boards!  I 
asked  him  to  fetch  some  solid  logs,  but  he 
declared  it  impossible  to  transport  them. 
However,  he  tried,  and  next  evening  re- 
turned with  some  two  hundred  men  drag- 
ging a  large  slice  of  a  tree  by  the  natural 
creepers  they  had  tied  around  it. 

I  laughed  at  the  shapeless  thing  and  de- 
clared I  could  carry  it  alone!  At  once  I 
took  the  body  of  the  cart'  off  its  wheels, 
and  lashed  the  log  under  the  axle  with 
heavy  ropes.  Then  with  one  hand,  I  pulled 
along  the  road  a  log  which  it  had  taken  a 
regiment  to  drag,  to  the  consternation  and 
joy  of  all.  They  yelled  and  clapped  their 
hands  and  jumped  about  with  delight  at 
such  a  wonder,  each  one  rushing  up  to  me 
and  taking  me  by  the  hand  in  ecstasy  at 
such  a  prodigy. 

"Mackay  is  truly  the  hihare"  ( — the 
devil,  but  their  god),  they  cried. 

In  ten  days'  time  we  had  finished  the  two 
inner  coffins,  the  first  being  of  wood,  cush- 
ioned all  inside  with  cotton  wool,  and  cov- 
ered all  over,  inside  and  out,  with  snow- 
white  calico,  secured  by  a  thousand    cop- 

^See  p.  72. 


8o      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

per  tacks.  Ornamental  work  I  made  by 
cutting  patterns  out  of  black  and  white 
pocket-handkerchiefs,  and  tacking  them  on. 

The  copper  box  was  seven  feet  long, 
three  feet  wide  and  three  feet  high,  and 
shaped  like  a  coffin.  The  king's  copper  was 
little  more  than  enough  for  the  lid  and  ends, 
so  we  had  to  supply  for  the  sides  four  sheets 
of  copper  plate,  which  the  king  paid  for  at 
once  in  ivory,  for  we  did  not  think  it  well 
to  give  these  out  of  Mission  stores  gratis. 
We  freely  gave  our  workmanship  and  skill, 
and  time,  besides  the  tools  and  all  the  iron 
nails  (no  small  quantity).  But  we  received 
copper  wire  as  an  equivalent  for  copper 
tacks. 

It  is  needless  to  describe  the  worry  and 
trouble  we  had,  working  late  and  early,  and 
sometimes  all  night.  At  every  hour  of  the 
day  pages  were  sent  down  to  inspect  the 
progress  and  ask  when  we  would  be  done. 
The  native  workmen,  especially  the  head 
men,  would  do  almost  nothing,  and  gener- 
ally spoiled  what  they  did.  They  preferred 
sitting  down  all  day  smoking,  and  watching 
what  I  did. 

When  we  had  the  two  boxes  carried  up 
to  the  court  and  shown  to  the  king,  he  ex- 
pressed unbounded  satisfaction,  and  asked 


Mackay  as  Undertaker        8i 

us  what  we  wanted  for  our  work.  We  told 
him  nothing  at  all.  But  he  gave  us  ten 
head  of  cattle  on  the  spot,  in  addition  to 
several  cows  and  a  hundred  bunches  of 
plantains. 

But  even  in  the  execution  of  a  small  work 
like  this,  which  all  allowed  to  be  far  be- 
yond their  own  powers  to  accomplish,  there 
must  needs  be  an  exhibition  of  jealousy  and 
ill-feeling  on  the  part  of  some — chiefs  and 
Arabs. 

They  told  the  king  that  we  made  the  cof- 
fins small,  much  too  small  for  Namasole, 
because  we  wanted  the  timber  to  finish  our 
own  house  with;  that  we  had  already  se- 
creted a  lot  of  boards;  and  though  we 
might  show  good  workmanship,  we  could 
not  work  fast.  The  Arabs  declared  that  it 
would  take  us  three  months  to  make  the 
large  outer  box. 

Mtsea  alone  stood  our  friend.  He  re- 
fused to  believe  that  we  had  appropriated 
any  boards,  and  said  to  our  accusers  that 
what  was  well  done  could  not  be  done  in  a 
day. 

''Can  a  woman  cook  plantains  well  if  you 
hurry  her?"  he  asked. 

When  we  commenced  to  cut  wood  for  the 
outer  box,  which  was  to  measure    twelve 


82      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

feet  long,  seven  wide  and  eight  high,  an 
order  came  for  all  the  native  artisans  to  go 
and  make  a  box  after  their  own  fashion 
at  Rusaka.  We  knew  that  this  order  did 
not  come  from  the  king,  but  from  the  chiefs. 
Of  course  the  smiths  and  carpenters  left  at 
once.  Mr.  O'Flaherty  went  to  court  and 
Mtesa  told  him  that  we  were  to  make  the 
box.  Still  they  did  not  return  and  a  gang 
of  men  came  and  carried  off  all  the  planks 
they  could,  leaving  only  the  huge  logs  Mr. 
O'Flaherty  had  himself  cut  in  the  forest. 

I  marked  off  each  log  into  boards  and  put 
our  own  Wangwana  to  the  saws.  But  who 
could  use  them?  Such  work  at  first!  Zig- 
zags of  every  style ;  each  board  varying  in 
thickness  at  every  inch.  But  by  and  by 
they  got  more  into  the  way  of  it,  and  in  a 
week's  time  we  had  a  hundred  boards  cut, 
squared  to  fit,  and  nailed  together  with 
strong  ribs  like  the  sides  of  a  schooner. 
When  together  it  looked  like  a  small  house 
rather  than  a  coffin ! 

We  covered  the  whole  inside  with  na- 
tive bark  cloth,  and  lined  the  inside  with 
pure  snow-white  calico. 

Each  side  was  a  piece  by  itself,  made  so 
for  transport.  A  thousand  men  arrived  to 
carry  the  segments,  and  most  fortunately  it 


Mackay  as  Undertaker        83 

did  not  rain.  We  put  them  together  be- 
fore the  king,  who  challenged  all  to  say  if 
such  workmanship  could  be  done  in  the 
country  by  Baganda,  or  if  anything  of  the 
kind  had  ever  been  seen  in  the  land? 

Next  day  we  had  the  king's  order  to  go 
to  the  burial.  He  wanted  us  to  go  the  same 
day,  but  we  were  too  tired,  having  for  a 
full  month  been  constantly  at  saw  and  ham- 
mer from  dawn  to  midnight,  and  often 
later. 

The  grave  was  a  huge  pit,  20  x  15  feet 
at  the  mouth,  and  about  thirty  deep. 
It  was  dug  in  the  center  of  the  late  queen's 
sleeping-house — a  monstrous  hut,  some  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  diameter.  As  us- 
ual, it  was  all  roof  and  no  walls,  with  a 
great  forest  of  poles  inside,  the  center  ones 
being  good  enough  for  frigate  masts. 

This  monster  pit  was  neatly  lined  with 
bark  cloth,  and  into  it  several  thousand  new 
bark  cloths  were  thrown  and  carefully 
spread  on  the  bottom,  filling  it  up  a  long 
way.  There  the  segments  of  the  huge  box 
were  lowered  in  with  much  trouble,  and  I 
descended  and  nailed  the  comers  together. 

After  that  I  was  summoned  to  the  cere- 
mony of  putting  the  corpse  into  the  first 
coffin.     Thousands  of  women  were  there. 


84       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

yelling  with  all  their  might,  and  a  few  with 
tears  in  their  eyes.  Only  the  ladies  of  the 
royal  family  and  the  highest  chiefs  were 
near  the  corpse,  which  by  this  time  had  been 
reduced  to  a  mummy.  It  was  wrapped  with 
a  new  mbugu  and  laid  on  the  ground. 

The  nicely  padded  coffin  was  half  filled 
with  bufta  (bleached  calico)  and  several 
bundles  of  petty  charms  belonging  to  the 
queen  were  laid  in.  After  that  the  corpse, 
and  then  more  bufta. 

The  chiefs  in  charge  carried  the  coffin  to 
the  court  where  the  grave-house  was,  where 
much  more  yelling  took  place.  I  screwed 
the  lid  down,  but  such  was  the  attachment 
of  some  of  the  royal  ladies  to  the  deceased 
that  I  had  to  get  them  peremptorily  ordered 
away,  with  their  crying  and  tears  and  hug- 
ging of  the  coffin,  before  I  could  get  near 
to  perform  my  duties  as  undertaker. 

Then  came  the  copper  coffin,  into  which 
the  other  was  lowered  by  means  of  a  huge 
sheet.  The  lid  of  that  had  to  be  riveted 
down,  and  that  process  was  new  to  the 
chiefs  standing  by. 

"He  cuts  iron  like  thread,"  they  said,  as 
the  pincers  snapped  the  nails. 

"Mackay  is  a  proper  smith!"  they  all 
shouted. 


Mackay  as  Undertaker        85 

WitH  no  mechanical  contrivances  it  was 
astonishing  how  they  got  the  copper  coffin, 
with  its  ponderous  contents,  lowered  into  the 
deep  grave  without  letting  it  fall  end  fore- 
most into  the  great  box  below.  The  task 
was  effected,  hpwever,  by  means  of  the 
great  multitudes  of  men. 

Thousands  of  yards  of  unbleached  calico 
(shirting)  were  then  filled  in  around  and 
over  the  copper  until  the  big  box  was  half 
full.  The  remainder  was  filled  up  with 
bark  cloth,  as  also  the  space  around  the 
outside  of  the  box.  The  lid  was  lowered, 
and  I  descended  once  more  to  nail  it  down. 
Several  thousand  more  mbugus  were  then 
laid  on  till  within  three  feet  of  the  surface, 
when  the  earth  was  thrown  in  to  the  level 
of  the  floor. 

We  returned  at  dusk,  but  the  burying 
was  not  completed  till  nearly  midnight.  Next 
morning  every  man,  woman  and  child  in 
the  land  had  their  heads  shaved,  and  put 
off  their .  nourning  dress  of  tattered  mbugus 
and  belts  of  plantain  leaves.  The  whole 
country  had  been  waiting  until  we  were 
done  with  our  work. 

Mr.  O'Flaherty  and  I  made  an  estimate 
of  the  value  of  cloth  buried  that  day  in  the 
grave  of  Queen  Namasole,  and  we  reckon- 


86       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

ed  the  amount  to  be  about  fifteen  thousand 
pounds  sterling! 

The  Arabs  made  an  independent  calcula- 
tion, counting  the  calico  and  mbugus  in 
equivalent  of  ivory,  and  their  reckoning 
agrees  pretty  nearly  with  our  own.  Such 
is  the  barbaric  splendor  of  the  court  of 
Uganda.  Who  would  have  thought,  in  the 
civilized  world,  of  burying  fifteen  thousand 
pounds'  worth  of  cloth  in  the  grave  of 
a  queen? 

What  an  attempt  at  achieving  a  short- 
lived immortality!  The  woman  died  a  pa- 
gan, but  her  burial  was  fit  for  a  Christian. 
The  text  is  a  good  one  from  which  to 
preach  many  a  sermon  here.  Such  prodi- 
gality in  trying  to  procure  a  short-lived  im- 
mortality, with  no  care  at  all  for  the  im- 
mortal soul. 


A  MUSICAL  GHOST 

From  Children's  Work  for  Children. 

In  1804  two  German  missionaries,  the 
brothers  Christian  and  Abraham  Albrecht, 
asked  to  be  sent  to  the  fierce  and  lawless 
Namaqua  tribe  of  South  Africa.  Through 
many  perils  and  much  toil,  they  at  length 
reached  Warm  Bath  in  bare,  hot  Namaqua 
Land. 

Moved  by  curiosity,  Africaner^  the  out- 
law chief,  a  terror  alike  to  the  tribes  on  the 
north  and  the  colonists  on  the  south,  came 
to  visit  them.  Pleased  with  his  reception, 
he  promised  to  return  and  settle  near  them 
with  his  tribe. 

But  unfortunately  a  misunderstanding 
arose,  and  the  Namaqua  chief  vowed  to 
curse  and  destroy  Christian  Albrecht  and 
his  companions  at  the  Mission.  As  he  drew 
nearer  and  nearer,  the  people  of  the  region 


^Africaner  was  subsequently  converted  by  Rob- 
ert Moffat  and  became  a  true  and  consistent 
Christian  man. 

87 


88       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

fled  in  terror  before  him.  There  were  no 
caves  in  which  to  hide;  only  a  dry,  hot, 
sandy  plain. 

To  escape  the  bullets  of  the  hostile  chief, 
square  holes,  about  six  feet  deep,  were  dug, 
and  into  these  the  fugitives  tremblingly 
descended.  This  temporary  refuge  was 
covered  by  a  tarpaulin,  and  there,  almost 
suffocated  from  heat  and  lack  of  air,  they 
waited  for  a  week.  Then,  in  answer  to 
prayer,  a  deliverer  was  sent,  a  kindly  chief 
who  removed  them  to  a  place  of  safety. 

But  on  came  Africaner  and  his  band. 
Those  whose  lives  he  sought  were  gone, 
but  their  possessions  were  found  buried  in 
the  sand.  This  afforded  a  most  interest- 
ing occupation,  and  one  of  the  tribe,  hop- 
ing to  find  still  other  treasures,  entered  the 
little  burial  ground. 

Forth  from  the  mound  on  which  he 
stood  soft  music  floated!  Was  he  treading 
on  a  grave?  The  dead  should  rise!  Chris- 
tian Albrecht  had  told  him  this. 

Once  more  he  dared  to  tread  upon  the  spot. 
Soft,  sweet  music  was  repeated.  Motion- 
less, horror-struck,  he  gazed  over  his  shoul- 
der with  dilated  eyes  and  throbbing  heart. 
Was  he  to  see  the  dead  arise?  The  silence 
reassured  him.    Once  more  he  leaped  upon 


A  Musical  Ghost  89 

the  mound;  then,  smitten  with  an  awful 
dread,  he  fled  to  his  chief — the  sepulchral 
harp  had  breathed  anew  its  soft,  sweet  ca- 
dence. 

Fearless  of  dead  or  living,  Africaner 
sought  the  spot.  Leaping  fiercely  on  the 
mound,  his  ear,  too,  was  greeted  by  mys- 
terious sounds. 

"Dig  and  discover !"  was  his  order  to  his 
men. 

The  loose,  dry  sand,  removed  by  trem- 
bling hands,  revealed  to  these  wild  sons  of 
the  desert  an  unknown  wonder — Mrs.  Al- 
brecht's  London  piano! 

It  had  been  buried  for  safe-keeping,  but 
Africaner,  hoping  to  discover  the  secret  of 
its  charm,  smote  and  separated  until  the 
spirit  of  its  melody  was  gone,  and  it  was 
hopelessly  ruined  forever. 


A  NOVEL  FUNERAL 

From  "The  New  Acts  of  the  Apostles,"  by 
the  Rev.  Arthur  T.  Pierson,  D.  D. 

Who  can  read  the  story  of  Jamaica  and 
doubt  the  power  of  the  Gospel  over  even 
the  most  degraded  negro  slaves? 

When  the  island  was  formally  ceded  to 
Great  Britain  by  the  treat}'  of  Madrid  in 
1670,  the  place  of  the  native  Indians  was 
taken  by  African  slaves,  imported  by  Span- 
iards. During  the  eighteenth  century  over 
half  a  million  were  brought  to  suffer  as  the 
heirs  of  Canaan's  curse. 

The  history  of  these  slaves,  their  poverty, 
wretchedness  and  degradation,  is  among 
the  blackest  annals  of  the  race.  When  the 
facts  became  known  in  Great  Britain  the 
popular  heart  of  English  freemen  demanded 
their  liberation.  On  August  i,  1834,  the 
emancipation  began  to  take  effect  in  the 
freedom  of  the  children  of  slave  families, 
but  the  midnight  of  July  31,  1838,  was  to 
usher  in  the  complete  liberation  of  every 
slave. 

90 


A  Novel  Funeral  91 

On  that  most  memorable  night,  led  by 
their  missionaries,  William  Knibb  and 
James  Philippe,  fourteen  thousand  adults 
and  five  thousand  children  joined  in  prayer 
to  God  as  they  waited  and  watched  for  the 
hour  which  was  to  terminate  the  life  of 
slavery  in  Jamaica. 

A  mahogany  coffin  had  been  made,  pol- 
ished and  fitted  by  cabinet-makers  among 
the  slaves,  and  a  grave  had  been  dug. 

Into  the  coffin  they  crowded  all  the  vari- 
ous relics  and  remnants  of  their  bondage 
and  sorrow.  The  whips,  the  torture-irons, 
the  branding-irons,  the  coarse  frocks,  and 
shirts,  and  great  hat,  fragments  of  the  tread- 
mill, the  handcuffs — whatever  was  the  sign 
and  badge  of  seventy-eight  years  of  thrall- 
dom — they  placed  in  the  coffin  and  screwed 
down  the  lid. 

As  the  bell  began  to  toll  for  midnight 
the  voice  of  Knibb  was  heard,  saying: 

"The  monster  is  dying — is  dying — is 
dying" — and  as  the  last  stroke  sounded 
from  the  belfry — "The  monster  is  deadt 
Let  us  bury  him  out  of  sight  forever!" 

Then  the  coffin  was  lowered  into  its 
grave  and  the  whole  of  that  throng  of  thou- 
sands celebrated  their  redemption  from 
thralldom  by  singing  the  doxology ! 


92      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

This  was  the  way  in  which  these  black 
slaves  took  vengeance  on  their  former  mas- 
ters— not  by  deeds  of  violence  and  murder, 
but  by  burying  the  remnants  of  their  long 
bondage  and  the  remembrance  of  their  great 
wrongs,  in  the  grave  of  oblivion. 

Where  did  these  debased  Africans  learn 
such  magnanimous  love,  except  of  Him 
whose  greatest  miracle  was  His  dying 
prayer,  "Father,  forgive  them  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do !" 


THE      LITTLE      MISSIONARIES— A 
GUESS    STORY 

From  "Topsy-Turvy  Land ;  /  rabia  Pictured 
for  Children,"  by  Samuel  M.  Zwemer  and  Amy 
E.  Zwemer. 

Some  little  missionaries  came  to  Arabia 
a  few  years  before  any  of  the  American 
missionaries  did,  and  have  been  coming 
ever  since.  Most  of  them  were  born  in  a 
country  not  far  from  Arabia,  yet  only  one 
of  them  visited  Arabia  before  Mohammed 
was  born. 

They  never  write  reports  of  their  work 
for  the  papers,  yet  I  have  seen  a  few  splen- 
did accounts  of  their  work  written  on  tab- 
lets of  flesh  with  tears  for  ink.  Because 
their  work  is  done  so  much  in  secret  and  in 
out-of-the-way  places,  they  are  generally 
overlooked,  and  often  underestimated. 

They  receive  no  salary  and  get  along 
in  the  most  self-denying  way  by  fasting  and 
living  all  together,  packed  like  herrings,  in 

93 


94       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

a  dark,  close  room,  except  when  they  go 
out  into  the  sunshine  on  their  journeys. 

Most  of  them  came  to  Arabia  in  the 
steerage  of  the  big  ships  from  London,  but 
none  of  them  were  seasick  at  all  throughout 
the  entire  voyage. 

They  never  complain  of  being  tired  or 
discouraged,  and  never  get  fever  or  cholera, 
although  I  have  talked  and  slept  with  them 
when  I  had  fever  rnyself.  Never  yet  has 
one  of  them  died  on  a  sick-bed.  On  one 
or  two  occasions  I  have  heard  of  a  small' 
company  of  them  being  burned  at  the 
stake,  but  I  was  told  that  not  a  groan  es- 
caped from  their  lips,  nor  were  their  com- 
panions frightened  the  least  bit.  With  my 
own  eyes  I  h^ve  seen  one  or  two  of  them 
torn  asunder  and  trampled  upon  by  those 
who  hate  Jesus  Christ  and  His  kingdom 
and  His  little  missionaries.  Yet  the  only 
sound  to  be  heard  was  the  blasphemies  of 
their  persecutors,  who  could  not  answer 
them  in  any  other  way. 

It  is  very  strange  indeed  that  when  once 
one  or  two  of  them  learn  the  language  they 
are  bound  to  their  work  by  so  many  tiny 
cords  o^  love  that  they  seldom  fall  apart 
from  their  work,  or  fall  out  one  with  the 
other. 


The  Little  Missionaries       95 

There  are  more  than  sixty  different  names 
and  ages  among  them,  yet  they  all  have 
one  family  accent.  Some  of  them  are  med-  " 
ical  missionaries  and  can  soothe  and  heal 
broken  hearts  and  prevent  broken  heads. 
There  are  two  ladies  among  them,  but  they 
$i?ldom  go  about  alone,  and  the  men  do 
riiost  of  the  preaching,  especially  in  Arabia. 
Most  of  them  are  evangelists  or  apostles  or 
fc^j  teachers. 

And  their  enterprise  and  push !    One  of 
them  told  me  the  other  day  that  he  wanted 
to  preach  the  Gospel  in  the  regions  be- 
:,    yond"  Mecca,   so   that  even  there  "every 
•    knee  should  bow  to  Jesus."  •  You  begin  to 
see  them  everywhere  in  the  Persian  Gulf 
and  around  Muscat  and  Aden.    Last  year 
a  few  of  them  went  to  Jiddah  with  the  pil- 
grims. 

They  dress  very  plainly,  but  often  in 
bright  Oriental  colors  (one  just  came  in 
all  in  green)  ;  on  one  or  two  occasions  I 
have  seen  them  wear  gold  when  visiting  a 
rich  man,  but  there  was  no  pride  about 
them,  and  they  put  on  no  airs  in  their  talk. 
How  many  of  these  little  missionaries  are 
there,  do  you  ask?  Over  three  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  forty  visited  and  left 
the  three  stations  of  the  Arabian  Mission 


96       Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

in  the  Persian  Gulf  last  year.  But,  as  I 
told  you,  they  are  so  modest  that  only  about 
a  score  of  them  sent  in  any  account  of 
their  work,  and  that  even  came  through  a 
third  party  by  word  of  mouth.  I  have 
heard  it  whispered  that  a  faithful  record 
of  all  their  journeys  and  speeches  is  kept, 
but  that  these  are  put  on  file.  -tQU>e  pub- 
lished  all  at  once  on  a  c!&TtSii  greaT^s^y. 
when  missionaries  all  get  their  permanent 
discharge. 

What  a  quiet,  patient,  faithful,  loving 
body  of  workers  they  are !  Even  when  it 
is  very,  very  hot  they  never  get  oiitof  tem- 
per as  other  missionaries  sometimes  do, 
after  a  hard  day's  work,  when  in  a  hot 
discussion  with  a  bigoted  Moslem.  And 
yet  how  plainly  they  tell  the  truth!  They 
do  not  even  fear  a  Turkish  Pasha ;  but  that 
is  because  they  have  all  obtained  a  Turkish 
passport  and  a  permit  to  preach  anywhere 
unmolested. 

Unless  you  have  guessed  my  riddle,  you 
will  want  to  know  what  these  missionaries 
cost  and  why  we  do  not  employ  more  of 
them ;  and  who  sent  them  out,  and  to  what 
Board  they  belong;  and  who  buys  them 
new  clothes  of  leather  and  cloth ;  and  what 
happens  to  them  when  their  backs  are  bent 


The  Little  Missionaries       97 

with  age  and  their   faces   furrowed  witH 
care. 

But  surely  by  this  time  you  have  guessed 
that  the  Little  Missionaries  are  the  Books 
c/  the  Bible.  The  two  ladies  are  Esther 
and  Rrth,  and  the  four  who  go  about  the 
most  are  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke  and  John. 
•4^.1^  now  may  I  ask  you  to  pray  for  the 
Little  '%lis£.ionaries  ?  Pray  that  they  may 
prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord  all  over  this 
dark  peninsula,  from  the  palm  groves  of 
Busrah  /o  the  harbor  of  Aden,  and  from 
thf  5c,^'of  Oman  to  the  unholy  cities — 
Mecca  and  Medina. 


N 


When  the  (JUffliean  warDecsme  a  cer- 
tainty the  EngHslr^sN^lished  a  hospital  at 
iScutari.     One  of  myNiieigfi^tts  opened  a 
store  of  all  sorts  of  eataWisfi^ntf';'  'i^kables. 
for  officers  and  men,  near  the  g^e-    ^r  5i>ltgJ    ^ 
and  the  tents  of  the  soldiers.  '"   1^^^^ 

He  wanted  a  hundred  loaves  every  day 
of  my  hop  yeast  bread.^  It  was  eagerly 
sought,  and  he  advised  me  to  open  a  great 
bread  store  there.  I  might  sell  an  immense 
quantity.  I  told  him  he  might  have  his 
hundred  loaves  every  morning,  but  beyond 
that  I  had  no  desire  to  enlarge  my  work.  I 
had  already  accomplished  all  I  had  intended 
and  more.  But  soon  after  an  orderly  came 
and  said:  X  \ 

iln  order  to  furnish  employment  to  his  per- 
secuted and  boycotted  Armenian  students  Dr. 
Hamlin  had  established  various  industries, 
among  them  a  flour  mill  and  a  bakery. 


Hamlin  the  Baker  99 

"Dr.  Mapleton  wants  you  to  call  on  him 
at  the  English  Military  Hospital  at  Scu- 
tari." 

"Who  is  Dr.  Mapleton?" 

"Lord  Raglan's  chief  physician,  sir,  and 
now  organizing  the  hospital." 

"You  are  under  some  mistake.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Dr.  Mapleton,  nor  he 
with  me." 

But  I  finally  agreed  to  call  next  day,  as 
the  orderly  said  he  believed  it  was  with 
regard  to  bread.  I  found  Dr.  Mapleton  in 
a  noble,  spacious  room,  quite  conscious  that 
he  was  worthy  of  his  environment.  He 
looked  up  and  said,  without  any  salutation : 

"Are  you  Hamlin  the  baker?" 

"No,  sir;  I  am  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hamlin,  an 
American  missionary." 

"That  is  just  about  as  correct  as  any- 
thing I  get  in  this  country.  I  send  for  a 
baker  and  I  get  a  missionary.  Thank  God, 
I  am  not  a  heathen  that  I  should  need  a 
missionary !" 

Two  loaves  of  my  bread  were  on  his 
table,  and  I  said  to  him : 

"I  presume  that  bread  is  what  you  want, 
and  you  don't  care  whether  it  comes  from 
a  heathen  or  a  missionary." 

'^Exactly  so,"  he  said. 


100     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

I  then  told  him  how  it  was  that  I  had 
anything  to  do  with  bread-making.  Not 
only  that,  but  various  other  industries  I 
had  inaugurated  to  enable  the  persecuted 
Armenians  to  sutsain  themselves.  I  had  no 
personal  interest  in  it  at  all. 

"Oh,  that's  a  very  fine  story,  no  doubt," 
he  broke  in,  becoming  impatient.  "I  don't 
care  a  sixpence  for  it.  I  wish  to  know  if 
you  can  furnish  us  the  bread." 

"I  can  if  you  will  pay  for  it,"  as  though 
I  distrusted  him,  for  I  was  determined  to 
reduce  his  hauteur. 

"Why,  of  course  we  shall  pay  for  it! 
But  I  want  you  to  state  the  terms." 

When  I  did  so  he  said,  with  a  tone  of 
incredulity : 

"Do  you  mean,  sir,  that  you  can  furnish 
the  bread  at  this  price?  It  is  just  half  what 
we  are  paying  for  bread  our  poor  invalids 
won't  eat." 

So  he  wanted  me  to  go  at  once  and  make 
a  contract  with  Commissary  General  Smith, 
and  lose  no  time.  Lord  Raglan  had  al- 
ready examined  the  bread  and  pronounced 
it  excellent. 

When  I  looked  over  the  printed  form  of 
the  contract  I  was  to  fill  out  and  sign,  I 
said  to  the  general: 


Hamlin  the  Baker  lol 

"The  sentence,  'to  deliver  every  morning 
between  the  hours  of  eight  and  ten,  or  at 
such  other  hours  as  might  be  agreed  upon,* 
etc.,  must  have  the  interpolation  'except 
Sunday'  after  the  word  'morning.'  The 
bread  can  all  be  delivered  Saturday  evening, 
say  at  sunset." 

"The  laws  of  war  do  not  regard  Sunday,'* 
he  said.  *'I  cannot  change  a  syllable  in  that 
form  of  contract." 

"Very  well,  sir;  then  I  will  not  fumisK 
the  bread.    I  have  not  sought  the  business." 

He  bit  his  lips  in  doubt,  but  finally  said: 

"The  chief  purveyor  is  a  good  Scotch 
Christian,  and  he  will  arrange  with  you  for 
that." 

So  I  signed,  with  a  protest  against  that 
article,  and  went  to  the  purveyor.  He  made 
no  objection  whatever  to  the  Saturday  de- 
liver>',  and  so  the  furnishing  began.  It 
gave  such  satisfaction  that  at  the  end  of 
three  months,  when  contracts  were  sub- 
jected to  new  competition,  the  bread  was 
accepted,  by  express  order  of  Lord  Rag- 
Ian. 

If  Christian  men  will  stand  conscien- 
tiously firm  to  the  Sabbath  they  will  rarely 
meet  with  any  insuperable  obstacles  to 
carrying  out  their  determination. 


102     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

The  Jews  are  faithful  to  their  Mosaic 
Sabbath,  and  no  one  ever  expects  them  to 
violate  it.  The  Turkish  government  never 
requires  them  to  do  so.  But  it  pays  little 
regard  to  the  Christian  Sabbath,  because  it 
knows  that  Christians  will  sacrifice  their 
sacred  day  to  their  worldly  interests. 


^ 


BUILDING  A  CHURCH  OUT  OF  AN 
ENGLISH  BEER  BARREL 

From  "My  Life  and  Times,"  by  Rev.  Cyrus 
Hamlin,  D.  D.,  Founder  of  Robert  College  and 
Missionary  of  the  American  Board  to  Turkey. 

The  battle  of  Inkerman,  in  November, 
1854,  brought  upon  me  a  new  industry. 
Looking  out  of  my  study  window,  about 
two  weeks  after  the  battle,  I  saw  the  Hima- 
laya, the  largest  transport  steamer  in  the 
British  service,  anchored  at  the  Kulelie  hos- 
pital, on  the  Asiatic  side  of  the  Bosphorus. 

Being  acquainted  with  the  chief  engineer 
of  the  great  steamer,  I  went  over  imme- 
diately to  see  what  he  had  brought  from 
Inkerman.  He  told  me  that  two  hundred 
and  fifty  of  the  wounded  and  sick  had  just 
been  carried  to  the  hospital. 

I  went  there  to  see  in  what  condition 
they  were  and  found  them  deplorably  des- 
titute of  underclothing  and  covering.  They 
said,  in  answer  to  my  questions,  that  their 
clothing  was  so  loaded  with  vermin  that 
they  preferred  to  suffer  from  the  cold  rather 

103 


I04     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

than  use  it.  They  said  they  had  had  no 
washing  done  for  six  months. 

"Why  didn't  you  do  your  own  washing?" 
I  asked. 

"For  two  sHght  reasons,"  was  the  reply; 
**we  had  no  wood  and  no  water.  We  were 
lucky  to  get  enough  for  our  coffee !" 

I  went  immediately  to  Dr.  O'Conner,  the 
chief  physician,  to  ask  him  why  no  washing 
was  done  for  these  poor  men.  He  replied 
that  the  Greek  women  only  pounded  the 
clothes  in  the  salt  water  of  the  Bosphorus 
and  brought  them  back  damp,  which  killed 
the  men  quicker  than  anything  else.  Be- 
sides, the  clothes  were  so  filthy  that  they 
could  not  be  cleansed,  and  they  were  going 
to  burn  them.  I  protested  that  there  were 
scores  of  women  who  would  do  the  work 
perfectly  well,  and  the  clothing  might  be 
saved. 

He  told  me,  with  great  insolence,  that 
every  man  had  better  mind  his  own  busi- 
ness !  I  thought  in  such  a  scene  of  suffer- 
ing, with  such  an  inhuman  overseer,  it  was 
"my  own"  business  to  mitigate  it.  Passing 
in  front  of  the  barrack,  I  met  a  soldier. 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  I  can  find  the 
sergeant  of  the  clothing?" 

"I  am  the  sergeant  of  the  clothing." 


Building  a  Church         105 

'Then  you  are  the  man  I  want.  Let  me 
see  all  you  have." 

He  opened  a  great  hall,  with  clothing 
piled  up,  I  should  think,  for  a  thousand 
men.  There  were  beds  and  bedding  and 
clothes  of  every  kind,  taken  from  the 
wounded  and  the  dead,  with  all  possible 
abominations,  and  incredibly  full  of  vermin. 
If  anything  could  make  war  'utterly  ac- 
cursed, it  would  be  Crimean  lice!  I  have 
no  doubt  they  killed  more  English  soldiers 
than  all  the  Russian  bullets. 

The  sergeant  told  me  that,  despairing  of 
washing  the  clothing,  they  had  built  a  place 
for  burning  it.  How  much  they  consumed 
I  know  not. 

I  went  immediately  to  Scutari,  and  made 
known  the  state  of  things,  the  conduct  of 
O'Conner,  and  the  ease  with  which  the 
want  could  be  supplied,  there  being  hun- 
dreds of  women — ^Armenian,  Greek,  Turk- 
ish— in  the  Bosphorus  villages  who  would 
be  glad  of  the  work. 

The  chief  purveyor  of  the  great  hospital 
said  if  I  could  do  anything  for  Kulelie  it 
would  be  the  greatest  possible  favor.  I 
asked  for  no  contract  and  no  price,  but  I 
determined  to  undertake  the  work.     My 


io6     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

doing  it  in  spite  of  Dr.  O'Conner  may  have 
added  to  the  zest  of  rescuing  the  sufferers. 

On  returning  to  Bebek  I  met  the  Ar- 
menian head  man  and  told  him  what  I 
wanted. 

"I  have  just  the  place  for  you,"  he  said, 
"a  tumble-down  house,  with  a  large  gar- 
den, a  huge  kitchen  and  an  unfailing  supply 
of  water." 

I  hired  it  at  a  reasonable  price,  monthly, 
so  long  as  I  should  want  it.  I  never  under- 
took to  do  anything  that  went  so  glibly.  In 
a  few  days  two  large  copper  kettles  were 
set  in  masonry,  so  as  to  deliver  the  hot 
water  through  twenty-two  faucets  into 
twenty-two  washing-places,  and  lines  were 
stretched  in  the  garden,  to  the  amount  of 
nearly  half  a  mile.  Twenty-two  women, 
Greek  and  Armenian,  were  engaged  and 
eager  for  work. 

But  while  I  was  hearing  a  class  the  over- 
seer burst  into  the  room  in  great  excite- 
ment. 

"Oh,  sir,  come  quickly!"  he  cried.  "The 
mob  will  tear  down  the  establishment,  and 
the  women  have  all  run  away !" 

The  truth  was,  the  clothes  were  so  filthy 
and  so  loaded  with  vermin  that  the  women 
were  afraid  to  touch  them.     About  three 


Building  a  Church  107 

thousand  articles  had  been  brought  over  in 
large  bundles.  When  opened  in  the  court 
the  offensive  odors  had  gone  up  into  the 
windows  of  the  houses  on  that  side.  The 
people,  naturally  excited,  were  assembling 
in  angry  haste.  Here  was  trouble  all 
around ! 

I  told  the  people  their  complaints  were 
reasonable,  and  the  clothes  should  be  im- 
mediately removed  to  the  magazine  on  the 
other  side;  but  if  they  made  any  trouble  I 
should  immediately  send  for  a  guard  of 
English  soldiers,  and  they  would  have  the 
pleasure  of  dealing  with  them.  The  people 
then  became  quiet  and  departed. 

What  was  I  to  do?  I  was  certainly  in  a 
fix.  I  could  not  blame  the  women  or  the 
people. 

A  thought  struck  me.  It  came  of  itself — 
a  complete  idea  of  one  of  the  empty  oak 
beer  casks  lying  at  the  Kulelie,  changed 
into  a  washing  machine.  Next  morning, 
about  nine  o'clock,  the  machine  was  ready, 
and  on  the  ground.  A  few  women  sullenly 
came,  after  much  persuasion,  to  see  it  tried. 

I  must  produce  a  surprising  effect  on  the 
first  trial;  and  a  large  quantity  of  melted 
soap  had  been  put  unnoticed  into  the  barrel. 
I  took  up  the  articles  with  the  tongs  and 


io8     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

put  them  in,  let  on  the  water  and  told  the 
man  to  work  the  brake  twenty  minutes. 
Five  or  six  minutes  were  found  to  be  quite 
enough.  The  water  ran  off  with  a  filthy, 
muddy  color.  Pure  water  was  let  in,  until, 
after  rinsing,  it  came  away  pure.  The  ar- 
ticles were  taken  out  transformed! 

The  women  had  no  objections  to  finish- 
ing the  work.  The  twenty-two  returned, 
more  machines  were  made,  and  the  work 
went  on  merrily,  without  further  care.  As 
soon  as  a  complete  set  of  all  articles  for 
two  hundred  and  fifty  men  could  be  pre- 
pared they  were  sent  to  the  hospital,  and 
produced  both  joy  and  comfort. 

Dr.  O'Conner  was  removed.  I  think  he 
was  a  brutal,  unfeeling  wretch,  and  cared 
nothing  for  the  sick  and  wounded.  Dr. 
Tice,  who  came  in  his  place,  was  a  gentle- 
man, and  ordered  the  men  to  change  twice 
a  week. 

In  good  weather  for  drying,  with  a  force 
of  thirty  persons  and  six  washing  ma- 
chines, three  thousand  articles  were  some- 
times put  through  in  a  day.  Although  the 
sick  and  wounded  finally  amounted  to  eight 
hundred,  the  laundry  always  kept  ahead  of 
the  demand. 

The  women  earned  from  thirty  to  forty- 


Building  a  Church  109 

five  dollars  a  month,  a  sum  never  dreamed 
of  as  possible  by  them;  and  the  comfort  it 
diffused  in  their  poor  homes  was  one  of 
the  richest  rewards  of  the  work. 

In  due  time  I  went  to  the  chief  purveyor 
at  Scutari  with  the  accounts.  What  had 
been  expended  for  getting  up  the  works 
was  paid  for  without  question  or  examina- 
tion of  particulars,  and  the  washed  articles 
settled  for  at  the  rate  of  seventy-five  cents 
a  dozen  for  the  larger  articles,  fifty  cents 
for  medium,  and  thirty-seven  and  a  half  for 
small  articles. 

I  am  glad  to  testify  that,  with  three  ex- 
ceptions all  the  gentlemen  of  the  British 
army  with  whom  I  had  any  relations  were, 
to  use  an  English  phrase,  "the  soul  of 
honor." 

At  the  rate  of  payment  above  mentioned 
there  would  evidently  result  a  profit.  What 
should  be  done  with  it?  The  poor  little 
church  at  Bardezag  was  in  great  need  of  a 
church  building.  I  proposed  to  wash  one 
out  for  them. 

It  cost  nearly  $3,000,  and  yet  I  built  it 
entirely  out  of  an  Englisa  beer  barrel! 


ADMIRAL  FARRAGUT'S  QUESTION 

From  "My  Life  and  Times,"  by  Rev.  Cyrus 
Hamlin,  D.  D.,  Founder  of  Robert  College  and 
Missionary  of  the  American  Board  to  Turkey. 

The  visit  of  Admiral  Farragut  to  Con- 
stantinople excited  great  interest  and 
seemed  to  move  the  whole  city.  It  was  to 
have  a  very  peculiar  connection  with  the 
college  question,*  which  none  of  us  under- 
stood at  the  time. 

One  day  during  his  visit  my  young  son 
came  into  my  study  begging  me  to  take  him 
to  see  the  old  hero.  So  the  next  morning 
we  went. 

We  found  him  alone  in  his  room.     He 


'In  1861  Dr.  Hamlin  purchased  a  site  for  Rob- 
ert College  on  the  rocky  heights  overlooking  the 
Bosphorus.  The  Turkish  Government  gave  him 
permission  to  build,  but  the  work  was  scarcely 
begun  when  an  order  came  compelling  him  to 
stop.  This  order  was  manifestly  unjust,  and  for 
seven  years  Dr.  Hamlin  pushed  his  claim,  but 
all  to  no  purpose. 

uo 


Farragut's  Question         1 1 1 

asked  me  at  once  if  I  was  a  resident  of 
Turkey  and  what  my  occupation  was. 
When  I  told  him,  very  briefly,  about  the 
college  difficulty  he  was  perhaps  a  little 
annoyed  by  it= 

"I  am  sorry  the  Turks  should  treat  you 
so  unjustly!"  he  said.  "But  I  am  not  here 
on  any  diplomatic  mission." 

Turning  to  the  boy,  he  put  his  hand  on 
his  shoulder  and  said : 

"What  are  you  doing  to  do  in  this  world, 
my  son  ?    What  are  you  going  to  be  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  the  lad,  with  boy- 
ish simplicity:  'T  wouldn't  mind  being 
admiral  of  the  American  fleet!" 

This  evidently  touched  the  old  admiral 
in  a  tender  place.  Patting  him  on  the  head, 
he  said : 

"Ah!  my  son — my  son!  If  you  are 
going  to  be  admiral  of  the  American 
fleet " 

Here  his  remarks  were  cut  short  by  the 
opening  of  the  door  and  the  inrushing  of 
Dr.  Seropian. 

"Good  morning,  Admiral  Farragut!"  he 
exclaimed.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you  with  Dr. 
Hamlin!" 

He  then  proceeded  with  an  enthusiasm 
quite  surprising,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 


112      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

rather  bold,  to  speak  of  the  college  and  the 
unjust  prohibition  to  build. 

"You  have  just  come  in  the  nick  of 
time  to  help  Dr.  Hamlin  out  of  this  dif- 
ficulty !"  he  added. 

'Why,  doctor,"  said  the  admiral  as  soon 
as  he  had  a  chance  to  speak,  "I  can  do  noth- 
ing at  all  in  this  case !  I  have  no  diplomatic 
mission  here!" 

"Just  for  that  reason,"  was  the  reply, 
"you  can  do  everything.  You  have  only 
to  ask  the  great  pashas,  when  you  dine  with 
them,  why  this  American  college  can't  be 
built — that  is  all!  To-night  you  are  to 
dine  with  his  highness,  Aali  Pasha,  the 
grand  vizier,  and  when  you  dine  with  the 
Capudan  Pasha,  ask  him;  and  with  the 
Scraskier  Pasha,  ask  him,  and  so  on." 

"I  will  readily  do  that,"  said  the  admiral 
with  rather  a  jovial  look.  "A  beggar  may 
ask  a  question  of  a  king !" 

I  did  not  wish  to  get  him  involved  in  a 
controversy,  so  I  said  to  him : 

"Admiral  Farragut,  if  you  ask  that  ques- 
tion, I  would  suggest  that  you  make  no 
reply,  but  receive  their  response  as  though 
it  were  entirely  satisfactory.  I  don't  intend 
to  intimate  that  there  would  be  any  truth 
at  all  in  it!"  I  added. 


Farragut's  Question        113 

"I'll  do  it!  I'll  do  it!"  he  said  with  a 
smile,  as  though  he  saw  something  humor- 
ous in  it. 

After  this  I  had  great  curiosity  to  know 
whether  he  had  put  the  question  and  what 
replies  he  received.  Before  he  sailed  I 
went  on  board  to  ask  him,  but  the  cabin 
was  full  of  diplomats  and  I  could  only 
wish  him  "Bon  voyage!"  and  retire. 

About  ten  days  after  a  kiatib  of  the 
Sublime  Porte  came  and  sat  down  by  me, 
on  board  a  passenger  steamer  going  up  the 
Bosphorus,  and  said: 

"I  want  to  ask  vou  a  question,  Mr.  Ham- 
lin." 

"Very  well,"  I  responded. 

Putting  his  face  close  to  mine,  as  though 
it  was  an  important  and  secret  matter,  he 
went  on: 

"I  warxL  to  ask  you  if  your  great  admiral 
was  sent  here  by  your  government  to  settle 
that  college  question?" 

At  once  I  saw  that  the  admiral  had  not 
only  asked  the  question,  but  that  it  had 
caused  so  much  excitement  that  it  was 
known  through  all  the  rooms  of  the  Sublime 
Porte.    But  nothing  came  of  it. 

With  this  Farragut  episode  my  resources 
seemed   for  a  time  exhausted.     For   full 


114    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

seven  years  I  had  been  trying  every  measure 
that  seemed  to  promise  any  result.  An 
English  gentleman  said  to  me  one  day : 

"You  do  wrong,  Mr.  Hamlin,  to  pursue 
this  object  so  perseveringly !  I  happen  to 
know  from  the  highest  authority  that  it 
has  been  decided  that  your  college  shall 
never  be  built  upon  that  spot." 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  answered;  "I  have  known 
that  for  a  long  time !  but  there  is  a  Higher 
than  the  highest,  and  I  trust  in  Him !" 

One  day  while  in  a  deep  quandary  as  to 
what  course  to  pursue  next,  a  messenger 
boy  entered  my  study  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand.  It  was  from  Mr.  Morris,  our  Amer- 
ican minister  to  the  Turkish  court,  and  read 
substantially  thus: 

"I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Hamlin,  on  the 
termination  of  your  long  contest  with  the 
Turkish  government.  I  have  jus*  received 
a  note  from  his  highness,  the  grand  vizier, 
saying:  'Tell  Mr.  Hamlin  he  may  begin 
the  building  of  his  college  when  he  pleases. 
No  one  will  interfere  with  him.  And  in  a 
few  days  an  imperial  irade  will  be  given 
him,' "  etc. 

It  was  news  too  great  and  too  good  to  be 
true !  It  filled  me  with  great  exultation.  I 
had  never  dared  to  ask  for  an  imperial 


Farragut's  Question        115 

trade!  It  is  the  most  sacred  title  ever  given 
to  real  estate  in  Turkey,  and  emanates  from 
the  Sultan  himself.  I  had  said  that  if  ten 
thousand  dollars  would  secure  it  it  would 
be  money  well  spent,  and  here  it  was  freely 
offered  me! 

I  always  felt  and  often  said:  "There  is 
a  secret  history  to  this  affair,  beyond  all 
that  we  as  yet  understand." 

Not  until  two  years  later  was  the  true 
explanation  given.  A  few  weeks  after  the 
formal  opening  of  the  college  a  Turkish 
gentleman  called  to  see  it.  I  invited  him 
to  the  college  tower  to  survey  the  scenery 
spread  out  before  it.  He  was  charmed 
with  the  view  and  declared  that  no  univer- 
sity in  Europe,  and  he  had  seen  many  of 
them,  could  match  this  scenery  of  the  Bos- 
phorus  and  its  historic  shores. 

"Ah,  sir!"  he  said,  as  he  turned  to  go 
down,  "we  would  never  have  given  you 
leave  to  build  your  college  here  had  it  not 
been  for  that  bloody  insurrection  in  Crete  !'* 

"'That  bloody  insurrection  in  Crete!"* 
I  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "What  could  that 
have  to  do  with  building  the  college  here  ?'* 

"Oh,  we  understood  it  perfectly  well,"  he 
replied,  with  a  reproving  smile. 


ii6    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

"You  speak  in  enigmas,"  I  said;  "I  do 
aot  understand  it." 

"Have  you  been  so  long  in  Turkey  with- 
out knowing  about  that  insurrection  that 
kept  us  for  a  long  time  on  the  very  edge 
of  war?" 

"I  knew  all  about  that,  sir ;  it  is  the  con- 
nection between  the  two  that  I  do  not  un- 
derstand." 

He  evidently  doubted  my  sincerity,  but 
said: 

"When  your  great  Admiral  Farragut  was 
here  that  insurrection  was  taxing  all  our 
skill.  We  would  gladly  have  seen  Crete 
swallowed  up  in  the  sea;  but  to  grant  her 
freedom  would  have  involved  the  loss  of  all 
our  islands,  and  have  disintegrated  the  em- 
pire. Greek  delegations  surrounded  the 
admiral  and  reported  that  he  had  promised 
to  pass  along  the  shores  of  Crete  and  take 
the  refugees  to  Greece ;  and,  moreover,  that 
he  had  assured  them  his  government  would 
sell  them  one  of  its  monitors. 

"This  gave  us  just  cause  of  alarm,  which 
was  increased  not  a  little  when  the  admiral 
came  to  dine  with  the  Sultan's  high  officers 
of  state.  He  asked  the  grand  vizier,  point 
blank,  why  that  American  college  could  not 
be    built.      The    grand    vizier    replied    in 


Farragut's  Question        117 

friendly  terms,  but  the  great  admiral  said 
not  a  word.  He  continued  to  ask  the  same 
question  right  and  left,  to  the  minister  of 
foreign  affairs,  to  the  minister  of  war,  and 
of  the  navy : 

"  'I  would  like  to  ask  your  excellency  a 
question.  I  would  like  to  know  why  that 
American  college  cannot  be  built?' 

"To  all  he  held  the  same  absolute  silence, 
and  said  not  a  word.  We  saw  clearly  that 
the  United  States  government  was  holding 
that  college  question  over  against  us;  so 
the  admiral  was  assured  that  the  college 
would  soon  be  built.  But  when  he  left 
rather  suddenly  and  went  straight  out  by 
Gibraltar  we  breathed  easily,  and  changed 
our  intention  of  granting  you  leave. 

"But  a  few  months  after  those  letters 
from  leading  New  York  papers  were  sent, 
translated  and  in  the  original.  They  were 
very  severe  on  the  Cretan  case,  but  were 
written  with  ability  and  exact  knowledge. 
We  said: 

"  There  is  tHe  finger  of  the  great  admiral 
in  this.  His  government  is  preparing  the 
American  people  for  intervention.  If  only 
an  American  monitor  should  come  into  the 
Mediterranean,  it  would  be  followed  by 
war   with  Greece;    and    (lifting   up  both 


Ii8     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

hands)  war  begun  with  Greece,  Allah  him- 
self only  knows  where  it  would  end!' 

"We  had  been  warned  that  this  college 
question  would  become  a  thorny  one,  and 
that  political  complications  would  finally 
compel  us  to  grant  even  more  than  was 
asked.  We  now  felt  the  thorns,  we  saw 
the  complications,  and  we  said : 

"  'Better  build  a  hundred  colleges  for  the 
Americans  with  our  own  money  than  have 
one  of  Farragut's  monitors  come  into  the 
Mediterranean !' 

"So  we  gave  you  leave  to  build  on  this 
matchless  spot.  We  gave  you  the  imperial 
trade — which  we  never  give — and  we  placed 
this  college  under  the  protection  of  the 
United  States  as  the  greatest  compliment 
to  your  government;  and  so  (spreading 
both  hands  in  a  horizontal  motion,  with  a 
smile  of  great  satisfaction)  we  smoothed  it 
all  oflf." 

The  letters  referred  to  were  written  by 
two  Greek  gentlemen  in  New  York. 
Whether  the  astute  diplomats  interpreted 
everything  aright  I  am  not  called  upon  to 
say. 

I  prefer  to  repeat  I  Cor.  i  •.26-2g. 


SIX    BLACK    PINS 

From  "Woman  and  Her  Saviour  in  Persia,** 
by  Rev.  Thomas  Laurie,  D.  D. 

The  pupils  of  the  seminary^  were  at  first 
so  addicted  to  lying  and  stealing  that  every- 
thing had  to  be  kept  under  lock  and  key. 

Miss  Fiske  could  not  keep  a  pin  in  her 
pin  cushion;  little  fingers  took  them  as 
often  as  she  turned  away.  Lest  she  should 
tempt  them  to  lie,  she  avoided  questioning 
them,  unless  her  own  eye  had  seen  the 
theft.    No  wonder  she  wrote : 

"I  feel  very  weak,  and  were  it  not  that 
Christ  has  loved  these  souls  I  should  be 
discouraged;  but  He  has  loved  them,  and 
He  loves  them  still." 

If  the  pins  were  found  on  the  pupils,  an 
answer  was  always  ready. 

"We  found  them,"  or,  "You  gave  them 
to  us,"  they  would  say,  and  nothing  could 
be  proved. 


iThe  famous  seminary  for  Nestorian  giris, 
founded  by  Fidelia  Fiske  at  Oroomiah,  Persia,  in 
1843. 

119 


I20     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

But  one  summer  evening,  just  before  the 
pupils  were  to  pass  through  her  room  to 
their  beds  on  the  flat  roof,  knowing  that 
none  of  that  color  could  be  obtained  else- 
where, the  teacher  put  six  black  pins  in 
her  cushion  and  stepped  out  till  they  had 
passed. 

As  soon  as  they  were  gone  she  found 
that  the  pins,  too,  were  gone,  and  at  once 
called  the  girls  back.  She  told  them  of  her 
loss;  but  none  knew  anything  about  it. 
She  showed  them  that  no  one  else  had  been 
there,  and  therefore  they  must  know.  Six 
pairs  of  little  hands  were  lifted  up  as  they 
said: 

"God  knows  that  we  have  not  got 
them." 

"I  think  God  knows  that  you  have  got 
them,"  was  the  reply. 

She  searched  each  one  carefully,  but 
without  finding  the  pins.  Then  she  pro- 
posed to  kneel  down  where  they  stood  and 
ask  God  to  show  where  they  were. 

"He  may  not  think  best  to  show  me  now,** 
she  added,  "but  He  will  do  it  some  time." 

The  matter  was  laid  before  the  Lord,  and 
just  as  they  arose  from  their  knees  a  new 
thought  came  to  her. 


Six  Black  Pins  I2i 

"I  did  not  examine  your  caps,"  she  said, 
*TDUt  will  do  so  now." 

One  pair  of  hands  went  right  up  to  their 
owner's  head !  Of  course  she  was  searched 
first,  and  there  were  the  six  pins,  so  nicely 
concealed  in  the  folds  that  nothing  was 
visible  but  their  heads ! 

This  incident  did  much  good.  The  pupils 
looked  upon  the  discovery  as  an  answer  to 
prayer,  and  so  did  their  teacher. 

They  began  to  be  afraid  to  steal  when 
God  so  exposed  their  thefts,  and  she  was 
thankful  for  so  prompt  an  answer.  The 
child  who  stole  the  pins  became  a  pious  and 
thoughtful  woman. 


"IF  YOU  LOVE  ME,  LEAN  HARD" 

From  "Faith  Working  by  Love :  As  Exempli- 
fied in  the  Life  of  Fidelia  Fiske,"  by  D.  T.  Fiske, 

^I  have  learned  here  in  Persia,  as  I  never 
did  in  America,  that  He  who  fed  the  five 
thousand  with  the  portion  of  five  can  feed 
the  soul,  and  richly,  too,  with  what  I  once 
thought  were  only  the  crumbs. 

May  I  give  you  one  of  the  Master's  ser- 
mons ? 

One  Sabbath  afternoon,  at  Geog  Tapa,  I 
was  sitting  on  a  mat  near  the  middle  of  the 
church,  which  has  no  mats  and  only  a  floor 
of  earth.  I  had  been  to  two  exercises  be- 
fore going  to  the  church,  one  the  Sabbath- 
school  and  the  other  a  prayer-meeting  with 
my  girls. 

I  was  weary  and  longed  for  rest,  and 
with  no  support  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
could  not  sit  there  till  the  close  of  the  serv- 
ice.   Nor  could  I  hope  for  rest  even  when 


iPart  of  a  letter  written  by  Miss  Fiske  to  a 
friend  in  America. 

122 


Lean  Hard  123 

that  was  over,  for  I  must  meet  the  women 
readers  of  the  village  and  encourage  them 
in  reading  their  Testaments. 

I  thought  how  I  would  love  to  be  in  your 
church;  but  God  took  the  thought  from 
me  very  soon,  for,  finding  that  there  was 
some  one  directly  behind  me,  I  looked,  and 
there  was  one  of  the  sisters,  who  had  seated 
herself  so  that  I  might  lean  upon  her.  I 
objected;  but  she  drew  me  back,  saying: 

"If  you  love  me,  you  will  lean  hard." 

Did  I  not  then  lean  hard?  And  then 
there  came  the  Master's  own  voice: 

"If  you  love  me,  you  will  lean  hard." 

And  I  leaned  on  Him,  too,  and  felt  that 
He  had  sent  the  poor  woman  to  give  me  a 
better  sermon  than  I  might  have  heard  even 
with  you. 

I  was  rested  long  before  the  church  serv- 
ices were  finished ;  and  I  afterwards  had  a 
long  hour  with  the  women  readers,  and 
closed  with  prayer.  A  little  after  sunset 
we  left  to  ride  six  miles  to  our  home.  I 
was  surprised  to  find  that  I  was  not  at  all 
weary  that  night,  nor  in  the  morning,  and 
I  have  rested  ever  since,  remembering  the 
sweet  words: 

"If  you  love  me,  lean  hard." 


THE  KANPO  OF  KUMBUM 

From  "With  the  Tibetans  in  Tent  and  Tem- 
ple," by  Dr.  Susie  C.  Rijnhart. 

On  the  slopes  of  two  hills  in  the  province 
of  Amdo,  on  the  extreme  northwestern 
Chino-Tibetan  frontier,  nestles  the  great 
lamasery  of  Kumbura,  famed  among  the 
devotees  of  Buddha  as  one  of  the  holiest 
spots  on  Asiatic  soil. 

Leaving  America  in  the  autumn  of  1894, 
my  husband  and  I  had  Kumbum  as  our 
point  of  destination.  Six  months  later  we 
made  our  home  and  established  a  medical 
station  at  Lusar,  a  village  about  five  min- 
utes' walk  from  the  lamasery  proper,  where 
the  lamas  do  their  trading.  Scarcely  had 
we  entered  upon  our  work  when  the  first 
alarming  tidings  reached  us  of  the  terrible 
rebellion  which  shortly  broke  out  in  full 
fury  among  the  Mohammedans  of  western 
Kansu. 

Though  advised  to  leave  Lusar  and  seek 
a  place  of  safety,  we  decided  to  remain  with 
our  China  and   Tibetan  friends  and  face 

124 


The  Kanpo  of  Kumbum     125 

with  them  the  dreadful  possibihties  of  a 
long  and  bloody  siege. 

Barely  had  we  made  this  decision  when, 
to  our  amazement,  we  received  from  the 
kanpo  or  abbot  of  Kumbum  an  invitation 
to  take  up  our  abode  in  the  lamasery  during 
the  rebellion,  an  c^er  which  we  eagerly 
accepted,  not  only  because  of  the  safety  it 
offered  us,  but  also  because  of  the  prestige 
it  would  give  us  in  the  eyes  of  those  we 
were  seeking  to  help.  This  abbot  was  the 
greatest  Buddhist  in  northeastern  Tibet,  a 
man  who  was  looked  up  to  as  spiritual 
guide  not  only  to  the  four  thousand  lamas 
under  his  tutelage,  but  by  thousands  of  lay- 
men outside. 

This  apparently  sudden  kindness  on  the 
part  of  the  abbot  was  dependent  upon  an 
amusing  incident  during  Mr.  Rijnhart's 
visit  to  Kumbum  in  1892. 

One  day,  having  been  sent  for  by  one  of 
the  lamas  of  Kumbum,  he  went  imme- 
diately, only  to  learn  with  some  disappoint- 
ment that  he  had  not  been  summoned  from 
any  religious  motive,  but  to  be  consulted 
about  a  music-box  which  the  lama  had 
bought  as  a  curiosity  when  on  a  visit  to 
Pekin. 

The  music-box  was,  to  express  literally 


126     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

V^hat  the  lama  had  said,  "sick,"  and  had 
ceased  to  give  forth  music;  and  its  owner 
had  concluded  that  since  it  had  been  made 
by  foreigners  it  could  surely  be  cured  by  a 
foreigner.  Mr.  Rijnhart  carefully  exam- 
ined the  instrument,  and,  finding  that  it 
only  needed  lubricating,  gave  it  a  liberal 
treatment  of  castor  oil,  the  only  kind  avail- 
able, whereupon  its  powers  returned,  and 
the  wonderful  box,  as  the  lama  expressed 
it,  was  "cured!" 

The  result  of  an  apparently  insignificant 
act  of  kindness  cannot  be  estimated.  The 
incident,  though  forgotten  by  Mr.  Rijn- 
hart, had  evidently  left  an  impression  on 
the  lama,  who  had  in  the  meantime  risen 
to  the  dignity  of  the  abbotship,  for  he  it 
was  who  now  summoned  the  foreign  doctor 
with  his  magic  oil  to  come  and  treat  the 
treasurer  of  the  lamasery,  who  was  ill.  If 
a  sick  music-box  could  be  cured  with  one 
dose  of  medicine,  how  much  more  could  be 
done  for  a  sick  man ! 

Arriving  at  the  lamasery,  we  not  only 
visited  the  treasurer,  carefully  diagnosed 
his  case,  and  gave  him  treatment,  but  by 
special  invitation  were  ushered  into  the 
audience  chamber  of  the  kanpo  himself — an 
almost  unheard-of  favor.    During  our  con- 


The  Kanpo  of  Kumbum     127 

versation  with  him  he  explained  that  a  past 
experience  with  a  foreigner  had  given  him 
a  desire  to  meet  another ;  and  great  indeed 
was  his  pleasure  when  he  found  out  that 
Mr.  Rijnhart  was  the  identical  foreigner 
who  had  "doctored"  his  music-box  three 
years  before. 

His  invitation  to  remain  in  the  lamasery 
was  accepted  as  heartily  as  it  was  given, 
and  resulted  in  an  intimate  acquaintance 
mutually  agreeable,  which  soon  ripened  into 
a  firm  friendship. 

The  kanpo  was  far  superior  to  the  aver- 
age lama  in  intelligence ;  yet  his  knowledge 
was  exceedingly  limited,  a  fact  which  he 
cheerfully  admitted.  He  knew  practically 
nothing  of  the  outside  world,  had  traveled 
but  little,  and  had  an  idea  that  Pekin,  which 
he  once  visited,  lay  at  the  other  end  of  the 
world.  He  questioned  Mr.  Rijnhart  by  the 
hour,  carefully  noting  the  answers  and  mar- 
veling at  the  white  teacher's  wondierful 
range  of  knowledge.  He  studied  geography 
with  all  the  aptness  of  a  schoolboy,  and  fre- 
quently expressed  an  ardent  longing  to 
accompany  us  to  America  or  to  Europe  if 
we  should  go  home,  in  order  that  he  might 
see  for  himself  and  learn  something  of  the 
world  beyond,  so  full  of  mystery. 


128     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

Although  he  was  woefully  ignorant  of 
natural  science,  we  found  him  an  accom- 
plished linguist,  conversant  with  Tibetan, 
both  classical  and  colloquial,  and  with  Chi- 
nese and  Mongolian.  Chinese  he  had  spoken 
at  Pekin,  where  he  had  also  for  the  first 
time  seen  foreigners. 

Among  the  curios  he  had  brought  back 
from  the  Chinese  capital  was  a  collection  of 
photographs,  which  he  had  taken  to  be  rep- 
resentations of  Buddha,  but  which  turned 
out  to  be  mostly  photos  of  French  and 
American  actresses,  arrayed  in  costume! 
When  we  told  him  this  he  was  quite 
ashamed  and  handed  the  same  over  to  us, 
begging  us  not  to  say  anything  about  it,  as 
no  lama  is  supposed  to  have  pictures  of 
women  in  his  possession.  He  was  quite 
conscientious  in  this  matter,  and  willingly 
sacrificed  the  entire  collection  with  the  sole 
exception  of  a  photo  of  Alexander  of  Rus- 
sia. 

Soon  after  we  made  his  acquaintance  Mr. 
Rijnhart  gave  him  copies  of  the  Gospels  in 
^he  Tibetan  character,  among  them  a  copy 
of  St.  John,  which  he  prized  very  highly. 
He  had  a  marvelous  memory  and  was  soon 
almost  as  familiar  with  the  text  of  the  Gos- 
pels as  ourselves.     He  told  us  he  believed 


The  Kanpo  of  Kumbum     129 


thoroughly  in  Jesus,  but  he  did  not  see  any 
reason  why  he  should  renounce  Buddhism 
and  become  a  Christian. 

I  believe  that,  all  unconsciously  perhaps, 
the  kanpo  has  been  the  means  of  spreading 
Gospel  teaching  among  his  people  to  an 
extent  that  has  as  yet  been  possible  for  no 
Christian  missionary.  With  all  the  famous 
lamas  and  pilgrims  from  the  far  interior, 
even  from  Lhasa,  as  also  from  Mongolia,  he 
conversed  on  the  subject,  telling  them  what 
he  knew  about  the  Christian  doctrines,  and 
teaching  them  to  pronounce  for  the  first" 
time  the  name  : 

"Jesu  Ma'shika,"  Jesus  Chirst, 


\ 


AMONG    THE    MONGOLS 

From  "Among  the  Mongols,"  by  the  Rev. 
James  Gilmour,  M.  A. 

To  have  any  prospect  of  success  among 
the  Mongols  the  missionary  must  avoid 
raising  suspicions.  And  if  he  is  to  avoid 
raising  suspicions  he  must  climb  no  hill, 
pick  up  no  pebble,  never  go  for  a  walk  and 
never  manifest  any  interest  or  pleasure  in 
the  scenery. 

If  he  does  any  of  these  things,  stories  and 
rumors  are  at  once  circulated  which  effect- 
ually close  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants 
against  his  teachings. 

On  one  occasion  I  was  living  some  weeks 
in  a  Mongol's  tent.  It  was  late  in  the  year. 
Lights  were  put  out  soon  after  dark.  The 
nights  were  long,  and  with  the  discomforts 
of  a  poor  tent  and  doubtful  companions 
seemed  really  longer  than  they  were.  At 
sunrise  I  was  only  too  glad  to  escape  from 
smoke  and  everything  else  to  the  retirement 
of  the  crest  of  a  low  ridge  of  hills  near  the 
tent.    This,  perhaps  the  most  natural  thing 

ISO 


Among  the  Mongels       131 

in  the  world  for  a  foreigner,  was  utterly 
inexplicable  to  the  Mongols. 

The  idea  that  any  man  should  get  out  of 
his  bed  at  sunrise  and  climb  a  hill  for  noth- 
ing! He  must  be  up  to  mischief!  He 
must  be  secretly  taking  away  the  luck  of 
the  land! 

This  went  on  for  some  time,  the  Mongols 
all  alive  with  suspicion,  and  the  unsuspect- 
ing foreigner  retiring  regularly  morning 
after  morning,  till  at  length  a  drunken  man 
blurted  out  the  whole  thing  and  openly 
stated  the  conviction  that  the  inhabitants 
had  arrived  at,  namely,  that  this  extraordi- 
nary morning  walk  of  the  foreigner  on  the 
hill-crest  boded  no  good  to  the  country. 

On  another  occasion  a  missionary  who 
had  a  turn  for  geology  was  in  the  habit  of 
strolling  about  on  summer  evenings  after 
sunset,  and  picking  up  a  few  specimens  of 
stones.  Among  other  things  he  was  actu- 
ally supposed  to  have  discovered  and  dug 
out  of  the  earth  immense  masses  of  silver 
of  untold  value. 

These  stories  afforded  such  a  very  plaus- 
ible explanation  of  how  men  could  travel 
about  healing  and  asking  no  fees,  that  in 
one  neighborhood  to  which  I  and  my  medi- 
cines  had   been   specially   invited  no   one 


132     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

would  have  anything  whatever  to  do  with 
us,  simply  because  these  prejudicial  stories 
had  arrived  a  few  hours  before  us. 

My  wife  and  I,  while  encamped  at  a  large 
temple,  after  having  our  tent  crowded  with 
visitors  and  patients  all  the  hours  of  the 
long  summer  day,  used  to  have  our  horses 
saddled,  and  go  for  a  short  ride  at  sunset, 
returning  at  dusk.  This,  it  afterwards  ap- 
peared, produced  a  great  ferment  among 
the  lamas\  who,  voluminous  as  usual  with 
lies,  concocted  and  circulated  all  manner  of 
absurd  reports  about  our  searching  for 
treasure  in  the  night ;  so  much  so,  that  after 
a  few  days  a  messenger  appeared,  and  in 
the  name  of  the  government  authorities,  and 
ruling  lamas,  ordered  us  to  leave  the  place. 

Another  thing  that  must  be  refrained 
from  is  writing.  The  Mongols  are  very 
suspicious  of  seeing  a  foreigner  using  a 
pen. 

"What  can  he  be  up  to?"  they  say  among 
themselves.  "Is  he  taking  notes  of  the  ca- 
pabilities of  the  country  ?  Is  he  marking  out 
a  road  map  so  that  he  can  return  guiding 
an  army?  Is  he  a  wizard  carrying  off  the 
good  luck  of  the  country  in  his  note-book  ?'* 

^Mongol  priests. 


Among  the  Mongols       133 

If  a  missionary  desires  to  conciliate  the 
people,  and  win  their  confidence,  he  must 
abstain  from  walking  and  writing  while  he 
is  among  them.  In  both  these  respects  the 
minute  the  border  is  crossed  and  China  en- 
tered, a  delicious  sense  of  freedom  is  ex- 
perienced, and  a  man  feels  that  his  legs  and 
his  pen  are  of  some  use  to  him  again. 


A  CRUEL  CHINESE  CUSTOM 

From  "John  Kenneth  Mackenzie,  Medical  Mis- 
sionary to  China,"    by  Mrs.  Bryson. 

*A  Chinese  friend  of  mine  had  an  uncle, 
aged  sixty-four,  who  had  been  ill  for  some 
time  past,  and  the  other  day  they  sent  him 
word  the  old  man  was  dying  and  had  been 
laid  out. 

In  China,  when  all  hope  is  given  up  of  a 
patient's  recovery,  the  custom  is  to  dress 
them  at  once  in  grave  clothes,  and  remove 
them  to  a  board  and  trestles  away  from 
the  ordinary  bed,  so  that  it  shall  not  be 
defiled.  As  it  is  often  uncertain  when  a 
man  is  going  to  breathe  his  last,  it  not  un- 
frequently  happens  that  his  last  hours  are 
spent  in  torture,  and  his  end  hastened  by 
this  treatment.  In  the  cold  winter  of  Tien- 
tsin, to  be  stripped  of  warm  garments  and 
bedding  and  laid  out  in  cold  stiff  clothing 
must  indeed  be  trying. 

My  friend  arrived  at  his  uncle's  house, 


*An  extract  from  Dr.  Mackenzie's  diary. 


A  Cruel  Chinese  Custom    135 

expecting  to  find  him  dead,  but  instead  of 
this  he  was  only  laid  out  in  burial  clothes; 
he  was  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  relatives, 
dressed  in  white  mourning  garments,  wait- 
ing for  him  to  breathe  his  last,  while  strips 
of  white  paper,  the  sign  of  death  in  a 
house,  had  already  been  posted  on  the  outer 
doors. 

"Do  you  know  me,  uncle?"  my  friend 
asked  the  dying  man. 

"Oh  yes;  why  did  you  not  come  before?'* 
replied  the  patient;  "I  am  so  thirsty,  and 
they  will  give  me  nothing  to  drink,  and  I 
am  so  cold,  since  all  my  warm  clothing  has 
been  taken  away,  and  my  bones  are  sore 
with  lying  on  this  hard  board.  Move  me 
back  to  the  kang,  and  take  these  clothes 
away.    I  am  not  dead  yet!" 

The  nephew  gave  him  a  bowl  of  hot 
water  which  he  drank,  and  afterwards  some 
tea.  He  felt  his  pulse,  and  discovered  that 
it  was  stronger  than  when  he  had  visited 
him  before. 

"Don't  wait  for  me,  father !"  said  a  mar- 
ried daughter  who  had  just  arrived.  "I 
am  here,  so  you  can  go." 

This  remark  was  made  in  allusion  to  the 
idea   that  the  souls  of  the  dying  cannot 


136     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

pass  away  if  they  are  desiring  to  see  some 
absent  member  of  the  family. 

The  nephew,  who  was  a  Christian,  in- 
sisted upon  his  uncle  being  moved  back  to 
his  bed  and  dressed  again  in  warm  cloth- 
ing, and  gave  him  some  arrowroot;  after 
this  the  old  man  seemed  better  and  lived  for 
about  a  fortnight. 


A    VISIT    TO    A    CHINESE    DRUG 
STORE 

From  "Pagoda  Shadows,"  by  Adele  M.  Fielde, 
missionary  of  the  American  Baptist  Missionary 
Union  to  China. 

We  have  among  our  church  members  a 
thriving  druggist,  whose  shop  is  in  the 
city  of  Swatow. 

Having  ascertained  that  he  had  time  and 
inclination  to  show  us  his  stock  of  medi- 
cines, I  went  with  a  friend  to  see  them. 
The  shop,  after  the  manner  of  Chinese 
shops,  is  enclosed  on  three  sides  only,  and 
has  the  whole  front  open  to  the  street. 

The  counter  runs  the  whole  length  of  the 
front  of  the  shop,  except  in  a  narrow  place 
left  for  egress,  and  the  purchaser  is  ex- 
pected to  stand  in  the  street,  and  ask  over 
the  counter  for  what  he  wants.  The  cases 
for  drugs,  which  cover  the  inner  wall,  can 
be  touched  with  one  hand  while  the  coun- 
ter is  reached  with  the  other. 

The  stock  on  hand  is  valued  at  about  a 
thousand  dollars.     We   had    intended    to 

1S7 


138    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

make  an  accurate  list  of  all  the  drugs,  but 
finally  decided  to  take  note  of  only  those 
which  were  especially  curious.  Among 
them  were  the  following: 

A  great  variety  of  barks,  tubers,  bulbs, 
foots,  seeds,  and  leaves  with  the  stamens, 
petals  and  seed-vessels  of  the  lotus  in  sep- 
arate compartments.  Unhusked  rice  and 
•vheat,  sprouted  and  then  dried. 

The  flower  of  the  honeysuckle,  the  leaves 
of  the  arbor-vitae,  the  pith  of  a  large  reed, 
and  fungi  from  decayed  wood.  Various 
species  of  seaweed  and  bones  of  the  cuttle- 
fish. 

Dried  caterpillars,  snails  and  worms,  and 
the  cast-off  skins  of  locusts.  Silk  worms 
and  the  chrysalides  of  moths  and  butterflies. 

Shavings  of  goat,  ibex  and  deer  horn, 
the  scales  of  the  armadillo,  and  charred 
tiger  bones. 

The  shell  of  the  box-turtle,  and  the  horn 
of  a  rhinoceros,  valued  at  three  dollars  for 
a  piece  three  inches  in  diameter,  centipedes 
six  inches  long  stretched  and  dried  on 
splints,  and  the  gall-bladder  of  a  bear,  val- 
ued at  ten  dollars  and  used  as  a  tonic. 

Medicated  tea  in  small,  hard  cakes. 

Our  obliging  host  said  there  were  many 
other  drugs  in  the  shop,  among  them  seed- 


A  Chinese  Drug  Store      139 

pearls,  and  snake  skins  and  minerals;  but 
we  had  not  time  to  see  them  all,  and  hav- 
ing bought  a  box  of  medicated  tea,  and 
five  tiny  bottles  of  crystallized  peppermint 
oil,  we  took  our  departure. 

^Some  idea  of  the  truly  wonderful  doses 
compounded  in  a  Chinese  drug  store  may  be 
gained  from  the  following  recipe  written 
out  by  Dr.  do  Ping  for  a  patient  who 
had  swallowed  an  overdose  of  opium.  It 
took  half  a  day  to  make  it  up ! 

Two  couples  of  salted  lizards,  two  male 
and  two  female. 

^  oz.  of  Corea  ginseng  root. 

Six  dried  grasshoppers,  3  male   and  3  - 
female. 

^  oz.  lotos-leaves. 

1  oz.  walnuts. 

^  oz.  tail  of  rattlesnake. 

2  oz.  black  dates. 

I  oz.  elm  tree  bark. 
^  oz.  devilfish  claw. 
^  oz.  hartshorn, 
f  oz.  birds'  claws, 
i  oz.  dried  ginger. 
I  oz.  old  coffin  nails. 

*This  closing  paragraph  is  added  froen  the 
Missionary  Review  of  the   World. 


140    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

The  whole  to  be  mixed  with  two  quarts 
of  water,  and  boiled  down  to  one-half  the 
quantity.  Then  let  the  patient  drink  the 
mixture  as  quickly  as  possible. 


TEMPERANCE  CHARLEY 

From  "A  Chinese  Quaker,"  by  Nellie  Blessing- 
Eyster. 

One  night  while  in  the  city  Charley* 
drifted  into  a  temperance  meeting.  The  lec- 
turer of  the  evening  was  a  reformed  drunk- 
ard who  had  much  descriptive  ability  and 
was  powerfully  in  earnest.  The  woes  of  the 
drunkard's  family,  the  insidious  develop- 
ment of  the  alcoholic  appetite,  and  the  sure 
and  sad  end  of  the  drunkard  himself,  were 
made  vivid  with  thrilling  accuracy. 

CharHe  understood  it  all  and  was  greatly 
impressed.  At  the  close  of  his  address  the 
speaker  asked  those  of  his  hearers  who 
were  willing  to  join  the  Total  Abstinence 
Association  which  he  represented,  to  sign 
the  pledge,  and  to  wear  continually,  as  a 
reminder  of  that  pledge,  a  tiny  blue  ribbon, 
which  he  would  tie  in  their  buttonholes. 

To  the  surprise  of  many  in  the  audience, 

^Charley  was  a  Chinese  servant  in  the  home 
of  Miss  Proctor,  a  wealthy  Quaker  lady  living 
near  San  Francisco. 

141 


142     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

a  long-queued  Chinese  was  among  the  first 
to  accept  the  invitation  and  to  receive  the 
ribbon.  It  was  Charley.  No  Knight  of  the 
Garter  was  ever  prouder  of  his  insignia  nor 
held  it  in  higher  respect.  He  ran  with 
almost  electric  speed  through  the  Alameda 
to  the  home  of  his  mistress  to  unburden  his 
mind. 

Some  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  neigh- 
borhood who  had  been  spending  a  social 
evening  with  her  were  about  leaving  when, 
unannounced,  Charley  walked  into  the 
drawing  room.  His  demeanor  was  respect- 
ful but  he  was  evidently  under  strong  ex- 
citement.   Making  a  low  bow  he  exclaimed  : 

"See,  Missie  Proctor!  See,  evlybody! 
Me  now  good  Clistian.  Me  tied  on  here. 
Got  him  fast.  Me  never  dlink  wine,  no 
blandy,  no  beer.  The  preach  man  him  say, 
'Bad  man  dlink,  go  down,  down.'  The  poor 
wives  an'  little  child'ns  no  happy,  too. 
Cold  water  I  say!  Cold  water  is  the  thing, 
ladies  and  genplun." 

He  had  flung  his  arms  out  to  the  widest 
extent  in  imitation  of  the  speaker  and  his 
voice  ran  down  the  entire  gamut  of  grief. 
With  another  bow  he  retired.  Doubtless  it 
was  his  first  and  last  temperance  speech  in 


Temperance  Charley        143 

public,  but  not  his  last  effort  to  propagate 
temperance  principles. 

He  was  able  to  read  English  far  better 
than  to  speak  it.  Taking  his  mistress'  most 
prized  cook-book,  he  carefully  and  patiently 
read  its  various  recipes  for  compounding 
cakes  and  puddings  and  wherever  the  words 
*'wine"  or  "brandy"  occurred  in  directions 
for  seasoning  cake  or  sauce  in  quantities 
however  minute,  he  erased  it  and  substi- 
tuted "a  cup  of  cold  water."  On  the  final 
page  he  wrote  as  an  apology: 

"Reader,  please  forgive  brandy  and  all." 

In  due  time  Charley  became  a  sincere 
follower  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He 
proved  it  by  controlling  his  naturally  quick 
temper  and  becoming  very  gentle  in  man- 
ner and  speech.  He  also  became  the  self- 
appointed  janitor  of  the  meeting  house.  His 
watchfulness  for  the  general  comfort  of  the 
audience  never  flagged.  When  oflfered  a 
small  salary  for  his  services  he  refused,  it, 
saying  to  his  mistress  as  he  handed  her  a 
Bible: 

"You  find  him.  Door-keeper,  big  white 
tent,  circus,  lions." 

She  comprehended  his  jargon  and  read 
from  the  sacred  page: 

"I  had  rather  be  a  door  keeper  in  the 


144     ^i^^y  Missionary  Stoiies 

house  of  my  God,  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents 
of  wickedness." 

"That's  me!"  he  said  triumphantly.     "1 
'door  keeper  the  Lord's  house.    No  pay." 


RUNAWAY  BOB 

From  the  Church  of  Scotland's  Children's 
Record. 

Some  years  ago  in  a  manufacturing  town 
of  Scotland,  a  young  lady  applied  to  the 
superintendent  of  a  Sunday  school  for  a 
class. 

At  his  suggestion  she  gathered  a  class  of 
poor  boys.  The  superintendent  told  them 
to  come  to  his  house  during  the  week  and 
he  would  get  them  each  a  new  suit  of 
clothes.  They  came  and  were  nicely  fitted 
out. 

The  worst  and  most  unpromising  boy  in 
the  class  was  a  lad  named  Bob.  After  two 
or  three  Sundays  he  was  missing  and  the 
teacher  went  to  hunt  him  up.  She  found 
that  his  new  clothes  were  torn  and  dirty, 
but  she  invited  him  back  to  the  school  and 
he  came. 

The  superintendent  gave  him  a  second 
new  suit,  but  after  attending  once  or  twice, 
his  place  was  again  empty.     Once  more 

145 


146    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

she  sought  him  out,  only  to  find  that  the 
second  suit  had  gone  the  way  of  the  first. 

"I  am  utterly  discouraged  about  Bob," 
she  said  when  she  reported  the  case  to  the 
superintendent,  "and  must  give  him  up." 

"Please  don't  do  that,"  the  superintendent 
answered;  *'I  can't  but  hope  that  there  is 
something  good  in  Bob.  Try  him  once 
more.  I'll  give  him  a  third  suit  of  clothes 
if  he'll  promise  to  attend  regularly." 

Bob  did  promise  and  received  his  third 
new  suit.  He  attended  regularly  after  that 
and  got  interested  in  the  school.  He  be- 
came an  earnest  and  persevering  seeker 
after  Jesus.  He  found  Him.  He  joined  the 
church.  He  was  made  a  teacher.  He  stud- 
ied for  the  ministry. 

And  the  end  of  the  story  is  that  that  dis- 
couraging boy — that  forlorn,  ragged,  run- 
away Bob — became  the  Rev.  Robert  Mor- 
rison, the  great  missionary  to  China,  who 
translated  the  Bible  into  the  Chinese  lan- 
guage, and  by  so  doing  opened  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven  to  the  teeming  millions  of 
that  vast  country. 


A  SAFE  TEST 

From  "Modern  Heroes  of  the  Mission  Field," 
by  the  Right  Rev,  W.  Packenham  Walsh,  D.  D. 

In  1807  when  Robert  Morrison,  the  great 
apostle  of  China,  was  set  apart  for  his 
work,  he  sailed  for  New  York  because  it 
was  impossible  to  reach  his  destination  by 
a  direct  route. 

The  hostility  of  the  British  government 
to  all  missionary  effort  was  so  decided  that 
it  was  hopeless  to  expect  transit  for  a  gospel 
messenger  in  a  British  ship.  But  this  was 
overruled  for  good.  Friends  of  the  truth 
in  England  furnished  him  with  letters  of 
introduction  to  others  in  New  York,  and 
these  commended  him  to  the  American 
consul  at  Canton  and  to  other  men  of  in- 
fluence. 

A  touching  incident  is  recorded  concern- 
ing his  stay  at  the  house  of  a  Christian  gen- 
tleman in  New  York. 

Morrison  had  been  taken  suddenly  ill, 
and  was  placed  in  the  gentleman's  own 
m 


148     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

chamber,  where,  in  a  little  crib  beside  the 
bed,  slept  a  child,  whom  it  was  thought  a 
pity  to  disturb.  On  awaking  in  the  morn- 
ing, she  turned  to  talk  as  usual  to  her 
parents;  but,  seeing  a  stranger  in  their 
place,  was  somewhat  alarmed.  After  a 
moment's  pause,  she  fixed  her  intelligent 
eyes  steadily  upon  him  and  said: 
"Man,  do  you  pray  to  God?" 
"Oh,  yes,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Morrison, 
"every  day.    God  is  my  best  friend." 

The  answer  seemed  at  once  to  reassure 
the  startled  child;  she  laid  her  little  head 
contentedly  upon  her  pillow,  and  fell  asleep. 
Morrison  often  referred  to  the  circumstance, 
and  said  that  it  taught  him.  a  lesson  of  con- 
fidence and  faith. 


"ONLY  A  COBBLER!" 

From  "Modern  Heroes  of  the  Mission  Field* 
by  the  Right  Rev.  W.  Packenham  Walsh,  D.  D, 

There  is  a  story  told  about  William 
Carey  that  is  well  worth  repeating. 

It  is  said  that  long  after  he  had  attained 
to  fame  and  eminence  in  India,  being  pro- 
fessor of  Oriental  languages  in  the  College 
of  Fort  William,  honored  with  letters  and 
medals  from  royal  hands,  and  able  to  write 
F.  L.  S.,  F.  G.  S.,  F.  A.  S.,  and  other  sym- 
bols of  distinction  after  his  name,  he  was 
invited  to  dine  with  a  select  company  at 
the  Governor-General's. 

On  this  occasion  one  of  the  guests,  with 
more  than  questionable  taste,  asked  an  aide- 
de-camp  present,  in  a  whisper  loud  enough 
to  be  heard  by  the  professor,  whether  Dr. 
Carey  had  not  been  a  shoemaker. 

"No,  sir,"  immediately  answered  the  doc- 
tor, "only  a  cobbler !" 

Whether  he  was  proud  of  it,  we  cannot 
say ;  that  he  had  no  need  to  be  ashamed  of 

149 


150      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

it,  we  are  sure.  He  had  outlived  the  day 
when  Edinburgh  reviewers  tried  to  heap 
contempt  on  "consecrated  cobblers,"  and 
he  had  established  his  right  to  be  enrolled 
among  the  aristocracy  of  learning  and  phil- 
anthropy. 


ONE  LITTLE  WIDOW. 

From  "Mosaics  from  India,"  by  Margaret  B. 
Denning. 

Seven  years  a  widow,  yet  only  eleven 
years  old !  The  shadow — nay,  the  curse  of 
widowhood  has  hung  over  little  Sita  ever 
since  she  remembered  anything-.  The  little 
brown  girl  often  wondered  why  other  little 
girls  living  near  her  had  such  happy,  merry 
times,  while  she  knew  only  drudgery  and 
ill-treatment  from  morning  until  night. 

One  day  when  six  of  the  weary  years  had 
passed,  and  she  was  ten  years  old,  Sita 
found  out  what  widow  meant.  Then,  to  the 
cruelties  she  already  endured,  was  added 
the  terror  of  woes  to  come. 

She  had  gone,  as  usual,  in  her  tattered 
garments,  with  three  large  brass  waterpots 
on  her  head,  to  the  great  open  well  from 
which  she  drew  the  daily  supply  of  water 
for  a  family  of  nine.  She  was  so  tired,  and 
her  frail  little  back  ached  so  pitifully,  that 
she  sat  down  on  a  huge  stone  to  rest  a  min- 
ute.   Resting  her  weary  head  on  one  thin 

151 


152      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

little  hand,  she  was  a  picture  of  childlsH 
woe.  Many  sorrows  had  fallen  on  her 
young  heart,  but  she  was  still  a  child,  yearn- 
ing  for  companionship  and  love. 

Many  Brahmin  servants  were  drawing 
water  near  her,  singing  little  bhajans  or 
songs,  and  looking  bright  and  happy  in 
their  gay-colored  cotton  saris.  A  woman 
so  poor  that  she  must  draw  her  own  drink- 
ing water,  but  still  a  Brahmin,  came  near, 
and  to  her  Sita  appealed  for  help : 

"Will  you  not  draw  a  little  water  for 
me?  I  am  ill  and  tired  and  the  well  is 
very  deep." 

The  woman  turned  angrily  and  uttered 
in  a  scathing  tone,  the  one  word,  "Widow !" 
Then  she  burst  out : 

"Curse  you,  how  dare  you  come  between 
me  and  the  glorious  sun?  Your  shadow 
has  fallen  upon  me  and  I'll  have  to  take  the 
bath  of  purification  before  I  can  eat  food! 
Curse  you,  stand  aside!" 

Poor  Sita  stood  bewildered.  She  made 
no  answer,  but  tears  coursed  down  her 
cheeks.  Something  akin  to  pity  made  the 
woman  pause,  and  halting  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance from  the  shadow  of  the  child,  she 
talked  to  her  in  a  milder  tone.  She  was 
thinking,  perhaps,  of  two  soft-eyed  daugh- 


One  Little  Widow  153 

ters,  very  dear  to  her  proud  heart,  though 
she  mourned  bitterly  when  they  were  born, 
because  the  gods  had  denied  her  sons. 

"Why  should  I  help  you,"  she  said, 
"when  the  gods  have  cursed  you  ?  See,  you 
are  a  widow." 

Then,  in  answer  to  the  child's  vacant 
gaze,  she  continued. 

"Don't  you  understand  ?  Didn't  you  have 
a  husband  once?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  Sita  answered;  "an 
old,  bad  man  who  used  to  shake  me  and 
tell  me  to  grow  up  quickly  to  work  for 
him.  Perhaps  he  was  my  husband.  When 
he  died  they  said  I  killed  him,  but  I  did 
not.  I  was  glad  he  was  dead  though," 
added  the  sad  little  thing. 

"So  you  call  him  bad?"  the  woman  cried. 
"Ah!  no  wonder  the  gods  hate  you.  No 
doubt  you  were  very  wicked  ages  and  ages 
ago  and  so  now  you  are  made  a  widow. 
By  and  by  you  will  be  born  a  snake  or  a 
toad,"  and  gathering  up  her  water  pots, 
she  went  away. 

The  slender,  ill-fed  child  hurriedly  filled 
the  brass  vessels,  knowing  that  abuse 
awaited  her  late  return.  Raising  the  huge 
jars  to  her  head,  she  hastened  to  her  house 
— a  home  she  never  knew.    The  sister-in- 


154    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

law  met  the  little  thing  with  violent  abuse, 
and  bade  her  prepare  the  morning  meal. 
The  child  was  ill  and  nearly  fell  with  fa- 
tigue. 

"I'll  show  you  how  to  wake  up,"  the 
woman  cried,  and  seizing  a  hot  poker  she 
laid  it  on  the  arms  and  hands  of  the  child. 
Screaming  with  pain,  the  poor  little  creat- 
ure worked  on,  trembling  if  the  sister-in- 
law  even  looked  her  way. 

This  was  one  day.  Each  of  the  seven 
long  years  contained  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  such  days,  and  now  they  were 
growing  worse.  The  last  year,  in  token  of 
the  deep  disgrace  of  widowhood,  the  child's 
soft  dark  tresses  had  been  shaved  off,  and 
her  head  left  bare.  When  that  has  been 
done,  but  one  meal  a  day  is  permitted  a 
widow,  no  matter  how  hard  she  works. 

Most  of  the  little  girls  who  saw  Sita 
would  run  from  her,  fearing  pollution.  But 
there  was  one  who  shone  on  her  like  a  gleam 
of  simshine  whenever  she  saw  her.  One 
day  after  the  woman  had  abused  her  at  the 
well,  Sita  found  a  chance  to  tell  Tungi 
about  it.      t 

"There  is  a  better  God  than  that,"  Tung! 
said.  "Our  people  do  not  know  him,  and 
that  is  why  I  am  not  allowed  to  talk  with 


One  Little  Widow  155 

you.  I  am  married  and  my  husband  live^ 
in  a  distant  city.  If  I  speak  to  you,  they 
believe  that  he  will  die.  But  in  the  school 
I  attend,  many  do  not  believe  these  things." 

"How  can  you  go  to  school?"  Sita  an- 
swered. '*My  sister-in-law  says  that  only 
bad  people  learn  to  read." 

"So  my  mother  used  to  think,"  said 
Tungi;  "but  my  husband  is  in  school,  and 
he  has  sent  word  that  I  must  go  until  he 
calls  for  me  to  come  to  his  home.  Then 
he  can  have  a  wife  who  can  understand 
when  he  talks  about  his  books.  He  says  the 
English  have  happy  families  and  it  is  this 
which  makes  them  so.  The  wives  know 
books,  and  how  to  sing  and  how  to  make 
home  pleasant.  My  mother  says  it  is  all 
very  bad,  but  he  is  my  husband  and  I  must 
do  as  he  says.  I  am  very  glad,  for  it  is 
very  pleasant  there." 

Thus  the  bright-eyed  little  Brahmin  wife 
chatted  away,  as  gay  as  a  bird.  The  fount 
of  knowledge  was  opened  to  her — the 
beaming  eye,  the  elastic  figure  and  the  in- 
dividuality of  her  western  sisters  were  be- 
coming hers. 

But  none  of  these  things  seemed  for  Sita 
For  nine  weary  months  after  Tungi  went  to 
school,  the  shaven-headed  child,  living  on 


156     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

one  poor  meal  a  day,  went  about  sad  and 
lonely.  When  she  again  saw  her  bright- 
faced  little  friend,  her  condition  had  grown 
worse.  Her  neck  and  arms  were  full  of 
scars  where  bits  of  flesh  had  been  pinclied 
ou^  in  vindictive  rage  of  her  husband's 
relations,  who  believed  her  guilty  of  his 
death.  Brutality,  growing  stronger  with 
use,  made  them  callous  to  the  sufferings  of 
the  little  being  in  their  power.  No  one  who 
cared  knew  of  the  pangs  of  hunger,  the 
violent  words  and  the  threats  of  future 
punishment. 

Once  or  twice  she  had  looked  down  into 
the  cool  depths  of  the  well  and  wondered 
how  quickly  she  could  die.  Only  the  terror 
of  punishment  after  death  kept  this  baby- 
widow  from  suicide. 

One  day  as  she  was  weeping  by  the  gate- 
way of  Tungi's  house,  the  little  child-wife 
told  the  little  child-widow  of  a  safe  refuge* 
for  such  as  she,  where  neither  poverty  nor 
ignorance  could  exclude  her — a  home  under 
the  loving  care  of  one  who  knew  the  wid- 
ow's curse. 

After  many  difficulties,  Sita  found  this 


*The  Sharada  Sadan,  a  widow's  home,  founded 
by  Pundita  Ramabai. 


One  Little  Widow  157 

shelter.  Here  she  forgot  her  widowhood 
and  found  her  childhood.  Here,  in  the 
beautiful  garden,  or  at  her  lessons,  helping 
with  cooking,  or  leaning  lovingly  on  the  arm 
of  Ramabai's  chair,  she  passed  many  sweet 
and  useful  years.  By  and  by  she  found  the 
greatest  joy  in  love — higher  and  better  than 
human  love  can  ever  be.  Later,  when  a 
beautiful  young  womanhood  had  crowned 
her,  she  was  sought  by  an  earnest,  enlight- 
ened young  Qiristian  as  his  wife. 

Many  of  the  millions  of  child-widows  in 
India  never  find  release  from  the  bonds  of 
cruel  custom  and  false  religion.  In  Hindu- 
ism there  is  no  hope  for  such  accursed  ones. 


DIFFTCULTIES  OF  DOCTORING  IN 
INDIA 

From  "Between  Life  and  Death,"  the  story  of 
the  medical  work  of  the  Church  of  England  Ze- 
nana Missionary  Society  in  India,  China  and 
Ceylon,  by  Irene  H.  Barnes, 

A  medical  missionary  often  has  cause  to 
wonder  how  many  of  her  medicines  are  ad- 
ministered according  to  directions.  After 
repeating  her  orders  again  and  again,  a 
dialogue  something  like  the  following  fre- 
quently ensues: 

"Now  how  is  this  medicine  to  be  taken  ?" 
the  missionary  asks. 

"It  shall  be  taken  just  as  you  say,"  the 
patient  replies. 

"Well;  what  have  I  said?" 

"Please  say  it  again,  and  I  shall  know." 

No  neat  phial  is  brought  for  the  physic, 
but  a  piece  of  cocoanut  shell  or  a  little 
brass  saucer.  To  prescribe  a  "teaspoonful" 
or  a  "tablespoonful"  is  all  one  to  people  who 
eat  with  their  fingers,  and  have  no  use  for 
knives,  forks  or  spoons. 

138 


Doctoring  in  India         159 

If  a  quarter  of  the  medicine  does  them 
good  one  day,  they  drink  up  all  that  is  left 
the  next  day,  and  make  themselves  ill. 

A  whole  bottle  of  medicine  intended  for 
three  or  four  days  is  frequently  taken  in 
one  dose,  in  spite  of  ample  warning  and 
explanation. 

If  the  doctor  should  mix  the  medicine 
with  water  from  the  dispensary,  the  patients 
would  not  touch  it,  as  it  would  break  their 
caste.  All  prescriptions  must  be  made  up 
with  water  brought  by  them  in  vessels  of 
their  own. 

Their  use  of  metaphor  is  a  fertile  cause 
of  difficulty  to  beginners  in  the  language. 

Some  time  ago  a  woman  came  to  a  dis- 
pensary complaining  of  fever  and  a  cough ; 
but  she  spoke  of  the  fever  as  a  snake,  and 
the  cough  it  had  left  behind  as  the  trail  of 
the  snake! 

Amusing  incidents  constantly  occur.  Out- 
patients of  a  hospital  come  and  show  their 
own  tongue  and  pulse  when  they  want 
medicine  for  others. 

"Give  me  the  same  medicine  as  you  gave 
my  friend  just  now,"  is  a  frequent  request, 
irrespective  of  difference  in  malady.  Others 
put  the  doctor's  powers  to  the  test  by  re- 
fusing to  give  an  account  of  their  symptoms. 


i6o    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

"If  she  is  a  clever  doctor,"  they  declare, 
"she  will  find  out  for  herself." 

Their  hakims^,  they  say,  can  find  out 
the  diagnosis  and  treatment  without  any 
inquiries.  They  can  tell  what  is  wrong  by 
feeling  the  pulse  of  one  hand,  and  whether 
the  patient  will  recover  by  feeling  the  pulse 
of  the  other.  Patients  hate  examination, 
and  as  their  hakims  do  not  trouble  them 
with  this,  they  object  to  the  methods  of 
the  medical  missionary  in  this  respect. 


iPriest  doctors. 


HOW  WE  DUG  THE  WELL 

From  "Village  Work  in  India"  by  Norman 
Russell,  missionary  of  the  Canadian  Presbyterian 
Board  of  Missions. 

One  day  Raghu^  came  up  to  Mhow  with 
that  same  woebegone  expression  and  look 
of  final  disappointment  that  he  had  worn 
when  the  Brahmans  decided  to  drive  him 
out. 

"Ham  kya  karen,  Sahib?"  (What  can  we 
do?)  and  tears  of  discouragement  filled  the 
old  man's  eyes.  "The  river  is  dried  up, 
and  the  Brahmans  refuse  us  the  use  of  the 
village  wells." 

It  appeared  that  the  excuse  had  been 
given  that  the  vessels  they  brought  would 
destroy  the  villagers'  caste. 

"But,  Sahib  Ji,"  said  Raghu,  "this  is  not 
the  true  reason.  Many  a  time  have  I  drunk 
water  at  the  village  wells,  and  never  been 
refused  till  they  learned  I  was  a  Christian. 


iRaghu  was  a  native    Hindoo,    who    had  be- 
come a  Christian,  and  was  suffering  under  per- 
secution from  his  pagan  neighbors. 
161 


i62      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

Why,  to-day,  Sahib,  they  wouldn't  give  me 
a  drink  the  whole  way  in  from  Parlia;  I 
wasn't  able  even  to  wet  my  hps." 

And  I  thought  of  the  terrible  road  be- 
neath the  mountains  and  the  blinding, 
smothering  heat  of  that  mid-summer  day. 
Of  all  the  agonies  the  human  system  is 
called  on  to  endure,  perhaps  none  is  so  ter- 
rible as  that  of  thirst.  Well  may  you  who 
have  never  known  such  suffering,  have  pity 
for  the  dwellers  on  India's  plains  when 
the  skies  are  brass  and  the  breasts  of  mother 
earth  are  dry. 

I  knew  Raghu's  contention  to  be  correct, 
and  that  the  closing  of  the  wells  was  only 
one  of  the  special  persecutions  by  which 
the  villagers  visited  their  spite  on  those  who 
became  Christians.  I  could  have  appealed 
to  the  English  officials  but  the  feeling  had 
run  so  high  that  I  determined,  if  possible, 
to  avoid  their  interference. 

We  laid  the  matter  before  God,  and  it 
was  decided  to  try  for  water  on  our  own 
little  piece  of  ground,  as,  if  we  could  have 
a  well  of  our  own,  the  question  of  water 
would  be  forever  settled. 

The  excavation  of  a  well  in  this  land  of 
continual  sunshine  and  terrible  thirst  is  not 
only  a  work  of  considerable  expense,  as. 


How  We  Dug  the  Well     163 

being  more  of  the  nature  of  a  cistern,  it 
must  be  both  wide  and  deep,  but  also  a 
source  of  great  virtue,  and  is  usually  in- 
itiated with  much  ceremony.  It  created  no 
little  talk,  therefore,  among  the  villagers, 
when  it  became  known  what  the  Christians 
were  intending  to  do. 

The  piece  of -land  we  owned  was  a  bare 
narrow  strip  at  one  side  of  the  village.  Tht 
houses  of  the  Christians,  together  with  a 
room  for  the  missionary,  had  been  built  to- 
wards the  rear  end,  on  the  highest  part  of 
the  compound. 

The  natural  place  for  the  well,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  villagers,  would  have  been 
the  low  ground  at  the  front  of  the  lot. 
But  after  prayer  for  guidance,  it  was  de- 
cided to  dig  it  in  the  higher  Snd,  behind  the 
houses. 

Without  any  ceremony  beyond  this  sim- 
ple prayer  the  tools  were  brought  and  the 
work  begun.  No  sooner,  however,  were 
the  first  few  clods  removed  than  almost  the 
whole  village  flocked  over  the  thorn  hedge 
into  the  compound  to  see  and  criticise.  The 
village  people  are  very  voluble,  and  there 
was  no  lack  of  spokesmen. 

"What  is  going  on  here?"  several  began 
to  aslc,  as  they  crowded  round  the  workers. 


164     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

"We  are  digging  a  well,"  the  Christians 
replied,  without  ceasing  their  work. 

"But  you  have  not  consulted  the  pun- 
dits," objected  one  old  wiseacre  with  tooth- 
less jaws.  "Nor  called  in  the  priests," 
added  a  hanger-on  at  the  temple.  "Ye  have 
made  no  offerings  to  the  gods,"  sneered  a 
young  man,  a  clerk  in  the  kachahri,  in  con- 
vincing tones.  "Nor  feasted  the  Brahmans," 
objected  another. 

And  so  the  stream  of  criticisms,  taunts, 
and  jeers  rolled  on,  ending  in  the  final  as- 
surance, which  was  evidently  the  judgment 
of  the  crowd.  "You  will  get  no  water,  ab- 
solutely none." 

**But  we  have  prayed  to  God  who  made 
the  water,"  answered  the  Christians,  "and 
He  will  give  it  to  us." 

"Wah  1"  they  replied,  in  a  tone  which 
meant  a  good  deal  more  than  it  said.  And, 
as  if  to  convince  them  that  any  God  the 
Christians  might  believe  in  did  not  know 
much,  one  of  the  Brahmans,  who  had  been 
prominent  in  the  opposition,  added :  "There 
is  no  water  here.  There  is  the  place  for 
Vv-\ter,"  pointing  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
lot. 

"But  wo  have  asked  God  about  the  place, 
and  we  believe  this  is  where  He  wants  us 


How  We  Dug  the  Well     165 

to  dig.  We  will  surely  get  water,"  the 
Christians  answered  with  much  earnest- 
ness. 

At  which,  with  a  loud  chorus  of  "Wah! 
Wah!"  and  much  shrugging  of  the  shoul- 
ders, the  crowd  turned  disgusted  away. 

There  was  no  real  obstruction  placed  in 
the  way  of  the  work,  for  even  the  Brahmans 
had  too  much  reverence  for  the  digging  of  a 
well  to  attempt  that.  But  day  after  day, 
as  the  excavation  went  on,  the  people  would 
come  to  the  side  of  the  well,  and  pour  out 
the  same  expressions  of  contempt. 

On  the  second  or  third  day,  when  the 
broad  hole,  some  twelve  or  fourteen  feet 
in  diameter,  was  beginning  to  get  well 
through  the  upper  soil,  a  shrewd-looking 
farmer,  who  with  a  companion  was  watch- 
ing operations,  remarked  in  no  very  com- 
plimentary terms:  "The  fools!  this  is  a 
stony  place;  there  is  no  water  here." 

And  sure  enough,  as  if  to  further  try 
their  faith,  our  people  soon  struck  rock, 
much  to  the  gratification  of  the  evil  proph- 
ets. But  it  turned  out  to  soft  rock, 
readily  excavated  with  pick  and  shovel,  and, 
contrary  to  the  usual  nature  of  morum  soil, 
remained  soft  most  of  the  way  down.    On 


i66    Fifty  Missionary  Storiei 

this  being  pointed  out,  the  villagers  had 
only  the  same  assurance. 

"That  may  be  so,  but  still  you  will  get 
no  water." 

And  it  looked  as  though  the  villagers 
were  right,  as  day  after  day  our  men 
wrought  away  at  the  stone,  and  still  no 
moisture  appeared. 

"What  did  you  expect?"  the  onlookers 
asked;  *'they  are  Christians." 

But  the  men  toiled  on  in  faith,  praying 
every  day  that  God  would  give  them  not 
only  the  water  they  so  urgently  needed,  but 
grace  to  bear  with  the  taunts  of  the  vil- 
lagers. For  these  simple  Christians  believed 
not  only  that  God  was  with  them,  but  that 
He  had  chosen  the  very  site  on  which  they 
were  digging,  and  that  therefore  they  were 
bound  to  succeed. 

But  it  was  slow  work ;  the  soil,  though  it 
might  have  been  worse,  was  still  rock;  the 
pick  points  had  to  be  remade  daily;  and, 
now  that  they  were  too  deep  for  the  coolies 
to  travel  up  the  winding  pathway  with  the 
refuse  on  their  heads,  it  had  to  be  hoisted 
up  toilsomely  a  basketful  at  a  time,  by 
means  of  the  well  rope. 

They  had  now  been  digging  for  several 
weeks  without  any  signs  of  water  and  ever^ 


How  Wc  Dug  the  Well     167 

day  they  were  getting  nearer  and  nearer 
the  great  trap  bed  which  underlies  the  whole 
soil  of  Malwa  and  Nimar ;  this  reached  with- 
out finding  water,  their  hopes  would  be  at 
an  end. 

As  the  hole  grew  deeper  and  deeper,  the 
prayers  grew  more  earnest  and  frequent.  It 
was  now  not  merely  a  question  of  getting 
water;  to  them  the  very  God  of  the  Chris- 
tians was  assailed  and  His  faithfulness  at 
stake.  The  men  never  seemed  to  tire;  the 
rest  hour  was  shortened,  even  the  time  for 
meals  was  grudged  from  the  well.  The 
great  heat,  the  unusual  labor,  the  unfriend- 
liness of  the  villagers,  all  were  forgotten  in 
the  excitement  of  expectancy.  Even  the 
women  gave  a  hand  and  helped  with  the 
baskets. 

Deeper,  still  deeper,  yet  how  slowly  the 
hole  crept  downwards;  they  were  stripped 
to  the  waist,  and  the  sweat  was  rolling  down 
their  sides;  the  rock  was  growing  harder 
and  the  great  blocks  of  morum  more  diffi- 
cult to  dislodge;  and  yet,  as  they  looked 
round  upon  the  uneven  well-bottom,  torn 
into  rude  crevices  and  ragged  ridges,  only 
the  hard,  dry  stone  appeared. 

But  suddenly  Raghu,  dropping  the  basket 
he  was  loading,  rushed  to  the  side  of  the 


1 68     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

well,  and  began  to  examine  carefully  the 
bottom  of  a  great  slab  of  stone. 

"See!"  he  exclaimed,  excitedly,  holding 
up  his  hand.  "Is  not  this  water?  Strike!" 
he  shouted  to  the  man  with  the  pick ;  but 
without  waiting  for  him  to  obey,  he  seized 
the  implement  himself,  and  with  a  mighty 
blow  and  a  still  mightier  upheaval  tore 
away  the  face  of  the  slab. 

"Again !"  shouted  the  three  excited  men, 
as  the  broken  stone  revealed  sure  signs  of 
moisture  on  the  soft  rock  beneath;  and 
again  the  pick  sank  deep  into  the  damp 
morum.  And  then,  as  the  old  man  tore  it 
away,  the  water  bubbled  out,  trickling  in  a 
discolored  stream  into  the  crevices  beneath. 

"Shabash!"  "Bahiit  achchha!"  the  shout 
of  joy  broke  in  varied  exclamations  from 
their  lips ;  only,  however,  to  be  immediately 
checked,  as  they  saw  the  hole  quickly  widen 
and  the  stream  of  water  grow  clearer  and 
increase.  It  seemed  to  them  as  though 
a  subterranean  reservoir  must  have  been 
struck;  and  for  a  moment  or  two  the  in- 
stinct of  self-preservation  occupied  their 
whole  attention ;  quickly  the  men  were 
drawn  up  in  the  basket,  the  last  tying  the 
tools  to  a  rope,  ere  with  nervous  haste  he 
scrambled  out  of  the  water,  now  fast  ap- 


How  We  Dug  the  Well     169 

preaching  his  knees;  and  they  were  barely 
out  of  the  well  before  the  place  where  they 
had  been  working  was  filled  with  water. 

Down  on  their  knees  they  dropped  in  a 
brief  prayer  of  thanksgiving;  and  then, 
could  you  blame  them  ?  a  feeling  of  exulta- 
tion and  triumph  burst  up  in  their  hearts, 
and,  rushing  out  into  the  village  street,  they 
shouted : 

"We've  got  water !    We've  got  water !" 

The  villagers  would  not  believe  it  until, 
hurrying  out  of  shops  and  houses,  they 
rushed  to  the  side  of  the  well  and  saw  it 
for  themselves.  Then  more  than  one  ex- 
claimed : 

"It's  true,  they've  got  water!" 

Into  all  the  countryside  went  the  news 
that  the  Christians  had  procured  water  in  a 
well  where  even  the  Brahmans  prophesied 
they  would  fail,  and  that  without  the  aid  of 
priest  or  pundit  or  any  service  to  the  gods. 
And  from  all  the  villages  round  about  the 
people  came  to  see  the  "Jesus  Girist  well," 
as  it  was  commonly  called. 

It  was  the  best  sermon  we  had  ever  had  in 
the  district.  From  that  day  we  heard  no 
more  of  the  Christians'  being  turned  out; 
the  well  had  conquered,  and  the  followers 
of  Tesus  were  received  into  the  community. 


170     Fifty  Missionary  Storici 

A  few  weeks  later  they  were  holding  a  serv- 
ice in  the  house  of  the  KaniGsdar,  preach- 
ing to  some  of  their  once  bitter  opponents 
of  the  love  of  Jesus. 


THE  WINNING  OF  THE  BRECS 

From  "Soo  Thah:  A  Tale  of  the  Making  of 
the  Karen  Nation,"  by  Alonzo  Bunker,  D.  D. 

Away  to  the  eastward,  over  the  water- 
shed, several  days'  journey  beyond  Wee-la- 
kaw,  Soo  Thah's^  first  mission  field,  there 
lived  a  very  savage  tribe  about  which  little 
was  known  save  that  they  were  notoriously 
bad,  and  reckless  fighters. 

In  tours  up  and  down  the  churches  and 
villages,  the  teachers  had  often  looked  away 
to  that  range  of  mountains,  and  wondered 
how  they  might  reach  the  wild  tribes  living 
beyond  them.  They  were  called  Brecs  and 
so  great  was  the  fear  of  them  among  their 
neighbors,  that  their  country  was  seldom 
entered.  They  lived  largely  by  plunder, 
and  were  said  to  be  fond  of  uncooked  meat 
and  blood. 

Only  a  few  years  before,  they  had  at- 
tacked a  village  occupied  by  teacher  Saw 
Ah,  and  carried  his  wife  and  two  children 
into  captivity. 


*A  native  Karen  evangelist  or  teacher. 
171 


172     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

At  the  great  annual  assembly  of  the  Karen 
churches,  the  question  of  sending  teachers 
to  this  tribe  was  brought  up  in  the  mission- 
ary meeting.  When  the  elders  called  for 
volunteers  for  this  work,  there  was  silence. 
It  was  not  strange  that  the  young  men 
hesitated.  Saw  Ah's  case  was  ever  before 
them.  Men  would  have  sprung  to  their 
feet  for  work  in  almost  any  other  field. 
But  who  would  dare  go  to  the  blood-thirsty 
Brecs  ? 

During  the  appeal,  Soo  Thah  had  bowed 
his  head  for  a  few  moments,  evidently  in 
prayer.  Then  he  rose  to  his  feet ;  and  few 
will  ever  forget  the  look  of  noble  purpose 
that  overspread  his  face,  as  he  said  very 
simply,  almost  as  if  talking  to  himself : 

"I  am  sorry  for  the  poor  Brecs,  who 
know  nothing  of  Yuah,*  or  his  law  to  men. 
I  am  very  unhappy  because  no  one  goes  to 
them  with  the  great  tidings.  If  my  church 
will  give  me  leave,  I  will  go." 

In  the  midst  of  profound  silence,  the 
chairman  arose  and  said : 

"It  is  enough,  Soo  Thah  will  go  to  the 
Brecs.  Let  us  pray."  And  the  vast  aud- 
ience bowed  their  heads,  while  the  leader 


*The  Karen  name  for  God. 


Winning  of  the  Brecs       173 

poured  out  his  heart  in  prayer  for  their 
first  missionary  to  this  savage  tribe, 

"But,  Soo  Thah,  you  do  not  propose  to 
go  alone  to  the  wild  people,  do  you?"  some 
one  asked  him  afterwards. 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  "if  Yuah  sends  me, 
he  will  take  care  of  me." 

"But  you  do  not  know  the  road,  and  the 
way  is  long  and  lonely." 

'*Yuah  delivered  me  from  the  mouth  of 
a  bear,"  Soo  Thah  replied,  "and  also  from 
death  when,  crossing  a  swift  stream,  I  was 
swept  among  the  rocks.  He  also  saved  me 
from  the  mouth  of  a  tiger.  He  will  be 
with  me  in  this  work,  no  matter  how  diffi- 
cult." 

Committing  his  family  to  the  care  of  his 
church,  and  taking  his  Karen  bag  with  a 
testament  and  hymn-book,  Soo  Thah  com- 
menced his  long  journey.  He  was  escorted 
by  the  disciples  from  village  to  village,  until 
he  reached  the  boundary  of  English  terri- 
tory; then  he  pushed  on  alone  over  a  path 
of  which  he  knew  nothing,  except  that  it 
led  into  the  country  of  the  Brecs.  The  sec- 
ond day  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  water- 
shed. 

This  range  of  mountains  towers  six  thou- 
sand feet  above  sea-level,  and  is  covered 


174     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

with  a  thick  forest  to  its  summit.  When  he 
reached  the  top,  there  lay  before  him  the  un- 
known country  he  was  seeking.  Here  and 
there  in  the  distance,  he  could  mark  the  lo- 
calities of  the  villages,  by  the  smoke  of 
their  fires.  Proceeding  eastward  he  selected 
his  way  as  Yuah  seemed  to  lead  him. 

As  the  way  now  led  down  the  mountain- 
side, he  made  rapid  progress.  In  the  course 
of  the  afternoon,  he  drew  near  to  a  village, 
but  the  number  of  paths  was  confusing; 
yet,  using  his  knowledge  of  jungle  life,  he 
finally  approached  it  aright.  Had  he  been 
left  to  his  own  choice,  this  was  the  last  vil- 
lage he  would  have  selected  in  which  to 
begin  his  holy  mission.  It  was  the  most 
wicked  of  them  all.  Here  lived  the  most 
notorious  band  of  cut-throats  in  all  the  land. 
But  God  was  with  him ;  he  was  in  the  path 
of  safety  and  success,  though  led  among 
lions. 

Fortunately  he  met  no  one  until  he  passed 
a  turn  in  the  road,  where  suddenly  he  found 
himself  at  the  entrance  of  the  village.  Then 
a  dozen  men  saw  him  at  once.  The  women 
and  children,  screaming  in  alarm,  ran  for 
their  lives  into  their  homes.  They  evidently 
thought  the  stranger  was  the  advance  of  an 
attacking    party.     The    men    seizad    their 


Winning  of  the  Brccs       175 

spears  and  knives,  and  rushing  forward, 
surrounded  our  hero  with  cries  and  threat- 
ening gestures.  They  were  a  band  of  fierce 
savages,  moved  with  anger,  and  several 
poised  their  spears,  and  raised  their  long 
knives,  crying: 

"Kill  him !  Kill  him !  He  is  a  spy  sent  by 
our  enemies.    Cut  him  down !" 

And  they  would  have  done  so,  had  not 
Soo  Thah  stood  there  unmoved,  quietly 
looking  into  their  angry  faces.  What  a 
picture  of  Qiristian  heroism !  Yet  he  him- 
self did  not  regard  it  so. 

"Do  men  of  war,"  he  asked  as  soon  as  he 
could  make  himself  heard,  "do  spies,  go 
about  in  the  daytime  alone  and  unarmed, 
as  I  am  ?  See !"  and  he  pulled  from  his  bag 
his  Testament  and  hymn-book.  "See !  Are 
these  the  weapons  of  bad  men?" 

His  coolness,  as  a  shield,  had  stayed  the 
hurling  of  the  spears,  or  the  thrust  of  the 
knives. 

"This  is  the  white  book,"  he  said,  "of 
which  our  ancestors  have  told  us  from  an- 
cient days^     It  speaks.     Listen!" 


*The  Karens  had  a  tradition  of  a  "white  book" 
given  them  by  a  great  Spirit  with  whom  they 
had  lost  fellowship. 


176     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

Then  he  read  from  the  hymn  book,  trans- 
lating as  he  read,  for  the  dialect  of  the  tribe 
was  not  that  of  the  book.  Then  he  sang. 
It  was  the  first  book  ever  seen  by  these 
people,  the  first  Christian  song  ever  heard. 

Soo  Thah  was  a  sweet  singer,  and  any 
one  would  be  fascinated  with  his  melodious 
voice.  But  now  he  was  singing  for  his 
life.  The  Spirit  of  God  was  upon  him. 
The  great  love  which  Jesus  had  put  into 
his  heart  for  this  lost  people  rounded  and 
softened  the  melody  of  the  song.  It  smote 
upon  the  savage  and  angry  hearts  of  these 
wild  men  like  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun  on 
a  block  of  ice.  What  wonder  that  their 
spears  sought  the  ground,  and  their  swords 
their  sheaths.  It  was  as  if  an  angel  had 
suddenly  descended  from  heaven  and  stood 
in  the  midst  of  them. 

One  song  finished,  another  was  called 
for,  until  he  was  wearv.  Then,  having  won 
their  attention,  he  boldly  announced  to  them 
the  glad  message  Yuah  had  sent  him  to  de- 
liver. As  they  listened  they  began  to  say 
one  to  another: 

"This  cannot  be  a  bad  man.  We  never 
saw  bad  men  do  this  way." 

"He  talks  as.  Saw  Aw  does,"  another 
joined  in,  "and  he  is  a  good  man." 


Winning  of  the  Brecs       177 

"Are  you  a  Jesu  Kree  man,  and  a  brother 
of  Saw  Aw?"  still  another  asked. 

"That  I  am,''  answered  Soo  Thah.  ''Do 
you  know  Saw  Aw?" 

"Know  him !"  exclaimed  several,  "he  is 
with  the  great  chief  of  the  Red  Karens. 
His  heart  is  white.  His  lips  speak  true 
words.  He  is  kind  to  the  poor  and  sick. 
We  know  him,  though  he  has  never  been 
here  and  only  a  few  have  seen  him." 

"Did  he  not  cure  me  of  fever  with  bitter 
white  powder,  when  I  went  with  presents 
to  the  great  chief?"  another  said. 

"Yes,  he  was  kind  to  us,  though  our 
fathers  carried  ofif  his  wife  and  children," 
still  another  said :  "We  never  saw  anything 
Tike  it." 

Thus  Soo  Thah  won  a  notable  victory, 
and  was  received  to  the  best  they  had ;  and 
they  listened  gladly  to  the  message  he  had 
been  sent  to  deliver. 

For  some  time  he  remained  teaching  them 
about  the  love  of  Yuah,  and  reasoning 
with  them  about  the  folly  of  their  lives  of 
violence  and  crime. 

Having  opened  wide  this  door,  Soo  Thah 
began  to  be  anxious  concerning  his  family ; 
so  he  reluctantly  closed  his  visit  and  re- 


178      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

turned  to  his  village ;  and  finally  he  made  his 
report  to  his  white  teacher  in  the  great  city. 
After  a  few  years  a  church  of  forty  mem- 
bers was  organized,  other  villagers  joined 
in  the  movement,  and  schools  and  churches 
grew  up ;  all  as  a  result  of  Soo  Thah's  brave 
expedition  to  the  Brecs. 


KIM  OF  KOREA 

From  "Korean  Sketches,"  by  the  Rev.  James 
S.  Gale,  B.  A.,  of  the  American  Presbyterian 
Mission,  Wonsan,  Korea. 

We  had  gone  northeast  to  plant  a  Chris- 
tian mission  on  the  coast  of  Korea.  We 
found  a  home  and  then  announced  to  this 
strange  people  the  object  of  our  coming. 
On  the  first  day  of  meeting  the  room  was 
filled  and  in  the  farthest  corner  sat  a  little 
oldish  man,  with  face  afire,  listening  while 
I  read.  At  the  close  he  stood  and  made 
an  address  of  his  own. 

"This  doctrine,"  said  he,  "tells  a  man 
to  hate  his  father  and  mother  and  marry 
his  brother's  wife.  Wrong?  Of  course! 
Away  with  it!  Everybody  knows  its 
wrong." 

He  left  indignant,  but  he  came  again,  ancJ 
the  fiery  face  grew  pinched  with  listening. 
He  drank  in  the  words : 

"Rest  for  the  wanderer;  bread  for  the 
hungry;  all  who  are  troubled,  come!  And 
^he  man  that  was  dead  heard  His  voice ;  and 

179 


i8o      Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

the  poor  outcast  woman  found  that  He 
cared  for  her;  and  the  thief,  who  deserved 
to  die,  was  taken  home  to  heaven ;  and  He 
Himself  suffered  with  His  hands  nailed 
through  and  His  feet  torn,  and  His  gar- 
ments bedraggled  with  blood." 

The  tears  had  come,  and  old  Kim  was  on 
his  feet.  With  tenderness  in  his  voice  he 
told  the  people  that  he  did  not  know  how 
or  why,  but  the  story  of  Jesus  was  for  him. 
He  trusted  that  his  heirt  was  at  peace  with 
God,  the  first  time  in  fifty  years. 

There  was  great  consternation  among  the 
people.  Kim's  face  was  changed,  the  look 
of  woe  upon  it  was  gone,  and  an  expression 
of  peace  written  upon  it.  He  went  to  the 
elders  of  the  village  and  told  them  what  had 
been  done  for  him.  They  were  all  upset 
and  the  town  was  in  confusion,  for  Kim 
prayed  so  loud  at  night  that  he  terrified  the 
people.  They  in  turn  offered  sacrifice,  and 
cried  to  their  gods  to  save  the  town  from 
the  spirit  that  had  entered  it. 

One,  bolder  than  others,  defied  God, 
threatened  Kim,  and  blasphemed  in  his  poor, 
ignorant  way,  and  left  for  his  home  under- 
neath the  hills.  But  a  great  rain  came,  and 
a  part  of  the  hill  slid  off  and  buried  the 


Kim  of  Korea  i8i 

man;  then  Kim  prayed  that  God  would 
save  the  people  and  stop  the  landsHdes. 

Gradually,  from  a  wicked  man,  Kim  be- 
came what  all  the  townsfolk  called  a  good 
man,  though  a  little  crazy.  They  nicknamed 
him  Chom  Yung  Kam,  (Little  Old  Man). 
Little  he  was  in  the  eyes  of  his  countrymen, 
and  older  than  his  age,  for  he  lived  not  here, 
but  beyond  the  eternities  in  the  life  to 
come.  Only  a  year  remained  for  him,  and 
it  was  a  hard  year  of  suffering. 

"Once,"  he  said,  "I  was  cutting  grass 
for  fuel,  and  the  weariness  was  so  great  that 
I  knelt  down  among  the  reeds  to  tell  Him 
of  it ;  then  he  gave  me  such  peace  and  such 
indescribable  delight.  Oh!  If  the  people 
only  knew  it,  they  would  all  believe  in 
Him." 

But  we  had  no  suitable  meeting  house  in 
which  the  people  could  gather  to  hear,  and 
times  were  very  hard.  I  told  Kim  I  feared 
it  was  out  of  the  question,  but  he  rebuked 
me,  saying: 

'■'Brother !  who  runs  this  world  ?" 

With  that  he  went  to  the  end  of  the 
veranda  and  prayed  and  shouted  so  loud, 
that  all  the  people  in  the  town  could  hear 
him.    He  wanted  a  meeting  house  in  which 


i82     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

to  preach  the  good  news,  and  he  thanked 
God  for  the  promise  of  an  answer. 

The  meeting  house  is  built  now,  but  Kim 
never  saw  it,  for  his  body  was  already  sleep- 
ing in  the  dust  awaiting  the  resurrection. 
To  the  last  he  was  faithful,  and  when  life 
was  nearly  ended  and  strength  gone,  he 
gave  us  who  were  left  strength  and  en- 
couragement. 

Death  and  the  resurrection !  The  wisest 
seek  in  vain  by  wisdom  to  find  out  what 
they  are  and  have  to  give  up  the  search  and 
die  forgotten;  while  a  poor  old  heathen, 
who  has  never  known  anything,  finds  the 
secret  and  dies  triumphantly. 

On  a  sunny  slope  among  the  pines,  near 
his  little  mud  cabin,  there  is  a  green  mound 
that  marks  his  grave.  We  knew  him  less 
than  two  years;  and  after  all  h6  was  only 
a  poor  backwoods  Korean,  but  his  going 
meant  loneliness  to  us  and  his  memory 
brings  the  tears. 


THE  MISTAKES  OF  MISSIONARIES* 

A  young  missionary  to  China  sent  his 
servant  out  into  the  street  to  buy  something. 
He  was  gone  all  day.  Late  in  the  evening 
he  came  back  with  his  wheelbarrow,  look- 
ing tired  and  discouraged.  When  asked 
where  he  had  been,  he  replied : 

"Mr.  L.  sent  me  out  to  get  him  six  wives, 
and  I  could  not  find  one!" 

Shortly  after  her  arrival  in  India,  a  young 
lady  missionary  was  allowed  to  order  break- 
fast for  the  household,  in  order  to  test  heP 
progress  in  the  language.  She  intended  to 
ask  for  fresh  eggs,  but  used  the  wrong 
words,  saying  to  the  astonished  cook,  '*Yoit 
may  bring  us,  this  morning,  an  old  blind 
man,  nicely  boiled!" 


^Missionaries  to  foreign  lands  have  a  good 
many  wrestling  matches  with  the  language  be- 
fore they  finally  master  it.  The  mishaps  with 
strange  tongues  herewith  presented  have  been 
gathered  from  many  sources,  but  all  are  well 
authenticated. 

US 


184    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

A  missionary,  wishing  to  announce  a 
public  meeting  at  the  church  on  a  certain 
day,  announced  that  they  would  hold  a  "big 
rooster"  there. 

Another  missionary  told  his  servant  to 
bring  him  the  "■mndow-sill." 

A  young  lady,  visiting  her  sister  who  was 
a  missionary  in  Mexico,  had  only  a  slight 
knowledge  of  the  language.  One  day  she 
ran  into  a  gentleman  on  the  street.  Bow- 
ing, she  said,  as  she  thought,  "Beg  your 
pardon."  Afterward  she  learned  that  she 
had  said,  "By  your  permission !" 

A  lady  missionary  in  China  once  sent  her 
servant  out  to  buy  her  some  "courage " 
What  she  really  wanted  was  beef-gall ! 

A  lady  missionary  in  Brazil  requested 
her  servant  to  bring  her  some  little  article 
that  she  needed  at  once.  The  servant  stead- 
fastly refused  to  obey  her  orders.  With 
great  indignation  she  went  to  her  husband 
to  lay  complaint,  only  to  learn  to  her  dismay 
that  she  had  asked  the  man  to  kiss  her ! 

A  missionary  once    announced    that    a 


Mistakes  of  Missionaries     185 

"great  fish"  had  destroyed  the  crops.     He 
j-neant  a  great  rain. 

Mr.  H.  is  a  stalwart  missionary  with 
strong  muscles  and  broad  shoulders,  sur- 
mounted by  massive  head  and  a  firm  under 
jaw.  One  Saturday  night  he  called  in  his 
cook  to  see  if  he  had  been  honest  in  his 
accounts.  "Honest,"  in  Chinese,  is  "Savan 
Jang,"  while  "Da  Jang"  means  to  fight. 
When  the  cook  came  in,  Mr.  H.  told  him  he 
wanted  to  "Da  Jang"  with  him.  The  poor 
fellow  turned  pale  and  trembled  before  this 
young  American  giant,  wondering  what  he 
could  have  done.  He  was  much  relieved 
to  see  Mr.  H.  get  out  his  book  and  pen 
with  which  to  settle  the  accounts. 

Another  missionary  in  China  gave  a 
pretty  little  dinner  party  to  her  friends.  At 
the  proper  time  she  ordered  the  servant  to 
bring  in  the  fruit.  He  objected;  she  in- 
sisted ;  he  refused ;  she  grew  angry.  Finally 
he  left  the  room,  and  soon  returned  with 
an  air  of  supreme  contempt,  bringing  his 
master's  every-day  trousers  carefully  ar- 
ranged on  a  large  platter ! 


NOVEL  SIGNS  IN  JAPANESE 
CITIES 

From  an  article  contributed  by  the  Rev.  F.  E. 
Clark,  D.  D.,  to  The  Century  Magasine. 

In  the  larger  cities  of  Japan  many  of  the 
shopkeepers  are  not  content  with  one  lan- 
guage, and  that  their  own,  but  evidently 
have  applied  to  a  sign  painter  who  has  ac- 
quired that  dangerous  thing,  a  little  knowl- 
edge of  English,  without  drinking  deep  at 
the  Pierian  spring,  for  a  "shingle"  that  shall 
express  to  the  world  in  Western  characters 
the  nature  of  their  business.  The  assurance 
of  these  sign  painters  is  not  matched  by  their 
familiarity  with  English  spelling,  construc- 
tion, moods,  and  tenses;  and  the  result  is 
often  amusing  in  the  extreme.  For  in- 
stance, one  is  amazed  to  see  in  Tokyo  a  sign 
that  boldly  announces. 

A  TAILOR  CUT  TO  ORDER. 

Another  one  informs  us 

PHOTOGRAPHER  EXECUTED 
HERE. 

186 


Novel  Signs  187 

A  hatter  in  Kobe  announces  that  he  sells 
GENERAL  SORT  STRAW  HAT. 
and  another  informs  the  public  that  he  is  a 
DEALER  NEWANDSTILISHSTRAW- 
HAT 
WILL  MAKE  TO  ORDOR. 
The  new  and  remarkable  word  of  twenty- 
one  letters  in  his  sign  is  a  puzzle  for  the 
uninitiated.     Another,  who  evidently    be- 
lieves that  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit,  has 
placed  over  his  door 

BISCUIT  THE  WINE. 
Still  more  laconic  is  the  merchant  who  an- 
nounces himself  as  a 

SHIRTAILER. 
It  is  not  strange  that  single  letters  should 
get  out  of  place,  as  in 

RESTAURAND, 

MEALS  AT  ALL  HOUSE, 

SHOES   MANUFACTUOARY, 

CIGARAND  AND  CIGARETTED, 

and  the  like.  But  it  does  seem  as  if  a  wag 
with  a  keen  sense  of  humor  had  been  at 
work  when  we  read,  as  we  do  in  a  promi- 
nent street  of  Osaka, 

ER-MAN-WASH. 
Put  the  last  syllable  first,  and  you  will 


1 88     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

catch  the  thought.  A  wag,  too,  must  have 
prepared  the  label  for  a  dealer  in  borax,  who 
after  extolling  the  purity  and  value  of  his 
preparation,  put  in  large  letters  at  the  bot- 
tom: 

BEWARE  OURTRADEMARK. 
Perhaps  the  same  joker  prepared  the  adver- 
tisement for  a  chocolate  firm,  which  highly 
praised   the  excellence    of    its    unrivalled 
chocolate,  and  then  announced  that  it  "was 
warranted  to  contain  other  ingredients." 
REAL    ESTATE    LONE    AND    COR- 
RECTING AGENCY, 
appears  in  Tokyo,  a  place,  perhaps,  for  bad 
boys  and  girls. 
DRAW  FOR  WISH.    OIL  PAINTING 

PORTRAIT, 
also  appears  in  the  same  city. 

Public  signs  and  notices  are  often  as 
amusing  as  the  shop  signs.  For  instance, 
this  one  that  appears  on  the  way  up  the 
famous  Bluff  at  Yokohama : 
IT  IS  FORBIDDEN  TO  THROW  THE 
STONE  A  MAN  IS  BEING 
WOUNDED. 

Probably  in  some  past  year  a  stone 
thrown  over  the  bank  hit  a  passer-by,  but 
the  man  is  still  being:  wounded. 


Novel  Signs  189 

At  a  temple  door  we  read : 

ALL  VISITOR  ARE  NOT  ALLOW 

TO  ENTER  THIS  TEMPLE  PUTTING 

ON  THEIR  SHOE. 

Hence,  of  course,  we  took  off  our  shoe. 

It  will  take  a  linguist  to  unravel  this 
notice,  which  I  copied  from  a  poster  on  the 
side  of  a  house  in  a  little  fishing  village  on 
the  shore  of  the  Inland  Sea. 

TO  LET  GRAUND  IN  BEACH 

WHEN  IF  YOU  LIKE  I   WILL  DID 

AWAY  FROM  STEET  AND  WILL 

TAKEN  DIRTY  COTTAGE. 

On  mature  deliberation  of  several  savants 
it  was  decided  that  the  owner  meant  to  say 
that  if  we  rented  his  lot  on  the  beach  he 
would  move  his  house  from  the  street,  and 
also  take  away  the  "dirty  cottage"  that  now 
encumbered  his  ground. 

After  all,  a  study  of  signs  in  Japan  is  not 
altogether  productive  of  amusement.  The 
enterprise  of  the  nation  is  typified,  and  its 
eagerness  to  enter  into  the  commercial 
arena  with  the  best  of  the  traders.  Its 
self-confidence,  too,  that  is  not  dazed  by 
any  little  difficulty  like  a  wrong  letter  or 
article,  is  admirably  illustrated.  It  is  also 
a  significant  fact  that  only  English  is  at- 


I90     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

tempted.  We  see  no  German  or  French 
signs,  and  even  all  the  railway  stations  are 
named  in  English  as  well  as  in  Japanese. 
All  these  straws  show  to  which  direction  the 
trade  winds  of  Japan  are  blowing. 


The  following  possible  explanation  of 
the  "Er-man-wash"  sign  was  sent  to  Dr. 
Clark  after  his  article  appeared  in  The 
Century  by  Rev.  M.  L.  Gordon,  D.  D.,  the 
eminent  missionary  to  Japan: 

Often  the  signs  are  printed  on  the  double 
sliding  paper  doors  of  the  shop.  But  these 
doors  may  be  pulled  the  wrong  way,  and 
then  the  sign  looks  queer.  Thus  "Barber" 
becomes : 


BEE 

BAE 

In  the  same  way 


WASH- 

EE-MAN 

Novel  Signs 

is  easily  transformed  into 


191 


EE-MAN 

WASH. 

Dr  Gordon  adds : 

Did  you  see  this  sign:     ''Ladies*  Icurs 
made  from  their  own  skins  ?" 


JAPANESE  ETIQUETTE 

From  "The  Gist  of  Japan,"  by  Rev.  R.  B. 
Peery,  A.  M,,  Ph.  D.,  of  the  Lutheran  Mission, 
Saga,  Japan. 

In  many  instances  forms  of  politeness 
are  carried  to  a  ridiculous  extreme  in  Japan. 

When  you  give  a  present,  no  matter  how 
nice,  you  must  apologize  by  saying  that  it 
is  so  cheap  and  insigniiicant  that  you  are 
ashamed  to  lift  it  up  to  the  honorable  per- 
son, but  if  he  will  condescend  to  accept  it 
he  will  make  you  very  happy. 

If  you  receive  a  present  you  must  elevate 
it  toward  the  top  of  the  head  (as  that  is 
considered  the  most  honorable  part  of  the 
body)  and  at  the  same  time  say  it  is  the 
most  beautiful  thing  on  earth. 

When  you  are  invited  to  dinner  the  invi- 
tation will  carefully  state  that  no  special 
preparation  will  be  made  for  the  occasion. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  meal  the  hostess 
will  apologize  for  presuming  to  set  before 
you  such  mean,  dirty  food,  and  will  de- 
clare that  she  has  nothing  whatever  for  you 

192 


Japanese  Etiquette         193 

to  eat,  although  she  will  doubtless  have  a 
feast  fit  for  a  king.  Even  if  it  should  not 
be  good,  you  must  say  that  it  is  and  praise 
it  extravagantly. 

The  greetings  between  friends  are  some- 
times very  amusing.  I  have  often  over- 
heard such  conversations  as  the  following. 
Two  men  meet  in  the  street,  bow  very  low, 
and  begin  as  follows: — 

A.  "I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  hang- 
ing myself  in  your  honorable  eyes  for  a 
long  time." 

B.  "1  was  exceedingly  rude  last  time  I 
saw  you." 

A.  "No;  it  was  surely  I  who  was  rude. 
Please  excuse  me." 

B.  "How  is  your  august  health?" 

A.  "Very  good,  thanks  to  your  kind  as- 
sistance." 

B.  "Is  the  august  lady,  your  honorable 
wife,  well?" 

A.  "Yes,  thank  you ;  the  lazy  old  woman 
is  quite  well." 

B.  ''And  how  are  your  princely  chil- 
dren?" 

A.  "A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kind  in- 
terest. The  noisy,  dirty  little  brats  are  well, 
too." 

B,  "I  am  now  living  on  a  little  back 


194     Fiity  Missionary  Stories 

street,  and  my  house  is  awfully  small  and 
dirty ;  but  if  you  can  endure  it,  please  honor 
me  with  a  visit." 

A.  "I  am  overcome  with  thanks,  and 
ivill  surely  ascend  to  your  honorable  resi- 
dence, and  impose  my  uninteresting  self 
upon  your  hospitality." 

B.  "I  will  now  be  very  impolite  and 
leave  you." 

A.    "If  that  is  so,  excuse  me.  Sayonara," 


MAKING  MONEY  FOR  GOD 

From  "A  Maker  of  New  Japan,  Rev.  Joseph 
Hardy  Neesima,  LL.  D.,"  by  Rev.  J.  D.  Davis, 
D.  D.,  professor  of  theology  in  Doshisha  Uni- 
versity. 

*I  am  not  a  college  man,  and  it  was  the 
bitter  disappointment  of  my  life  that  I 
could  not  be  one.  I  wanted  to  go  to  col- 
lege and  be  a  minister;  went  to  Phillips 
Academy  to  fit.  My  health  broke  down, 
and  in  spite  of  my  determined  hope  to  be 
able  to  go  on,  at  last  the  truth  was  forced 
on  me  that  I  could  not. 

To  tell  my  disappointment  is  impossible. 
It  seemed  as  if  all  my  hope  and  purpose  in 
life  were  defeated.  "I  can  not  be  God's 
minister,"  was  the  sentence  that  kept  roll- 
ing through  my  mind. 


*The  Hon.  Alpheus  Hardy,  the  princely  bene- 
factor of  countless  good  causes,  who  educated  the 
great  Japanese  Christian,  Dr.  Joseph  Hardy  Nee- 
sima, once  told  this  thrilling  story  of  his  experi- 
ences to  the  Psi  Upsilon  Society  at  Amherst  Col- 
lege, of  which  he  had  just  been  made  an  hon- 
orary member. 


196     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

When  that  fact  at  last  became  certain  to 
me,  one  morning,  alone  in  my  room,  my 
distress  was  so  great  that  I  threw  myself 
flat  on  the  floor.  The  voiceless  cry  of  my 
soul  was,  "O  God,  I  can  not  be  Thy  min- 
ister !"  Then  there  came  to  me  as  I  lay  there 
a  vision,  a  new  hope,  a  perception  that  I 
could  serve  God  in  business  with  the  same 
devotion  as  in  preaching,  and  that  to  make 
money  for  God  might  be  my  sacred  calling. 
The  vision  of  this  service,  and  its  nature 
as  a  sacred  ministry,  were  so  clear  and  joy- 
ous that  I  rose  to  my  feet,  and  with  new 
hope  in  my  heart,  exclaimed  aloud:  "O 
God,  I  can  be  thy  minister.  I  will  go  back 
to  Boston.  I  will  make  money  for  God, 
and  that  shall  be  my  ministry." 

From  that  time  I  have  felt  myself  as 
much  appointed  and  ordained  to  make 
money  for  God  as  if  I  had  been  permitted 
to  carry  out  my  own  plan  and  been  or- 
dained to  preach  the  gospel.  I  am  God's 
man,  and  the  ministry  to  which  God  has 
called  me  is  to  make  and  administer  money 
for  Him,  and  I  consider  myself  responsible 
to  discharge  this  ministry  and  to  give  ac- 
count of  it  to  Him. 


PULLING  TEETH  IN  THE  LAND  OF 
THE  TOOTHACHE 

From  "From  Far  Formosa,"  by  George  Leslie 
Mackay,  D.  D.,  missionary  of  the  Canadian  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  Formosa. 

Dentistry  is  a  most  important  depart- 
ment of  medical  mission  work  in  Formosa. 

Toothache,  resulting  from  severe  ma- 
laria, and  from  betel-nut  chewing,  cigar 
smoking  and  other  filthy  habits,  is  the  abid- 
ing torment  of  tens  of  thousands  of  both 
Chinese  and  aborigines.  There  are  number- 
less superstitions  cherished  by  the  people 
regarding  the  growth,  defects  and  treat- 
ment of  the  teeth;  and  the  ways  by  which 
they  attempt  to  drive  out  the  black-headed 
worm,  believed  to  be  gnawing  inside  and 
causing  toothache,  are  some  of  them  amus- 
ing, some  disgusting,  and  some,  indeed, 
ingenious. 

The  methods  by  which  the  natives  extract 
teeth  are  both  crude  and  cruel.  Sometimes 
the  offending  tooth  is  pulled  with  a  strong 
string,  or  pried  out  with  the  blade  of  a 

197 


198    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

pair  of  scissors.  The  traveling  doctor  uses 
a  pair  of  pincers  or  small  tongs.  It  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  the  people  all  dread 
the  operation,  as  jaw-breaking,  excessive 
hemorrhage,  fainting,  and  even  death  fre- 
iquently  result  from  the  barbarous  treat- 
ment. 

My  first  attempt  to  extract  a  tooth  was 
in  1873.  On  leaving  Tek-chham  with  the 
students  one  day  we  were  followed  by  a 
dozen  soldiers  who  had  been  sent  to  watch 
our  movements.  One  of  their  number  was 
suffering  intense  pain  from  a  decayed  tooth. 

"There  is  a  worm  in  it,"  he  said. 

I  had  no  forceps,  but  after  examining  it 
I  got  a  piece  of  hard  wood,  shaped  it  as 
desired,  and  with  it  removed  the  tooth.  It 
was  primitive  dentistry,  to  be  sure,  but 
the  tooth  was  out,  and  the  poor  soldier  wept 
for  joy  and  was  most  profuse  in  his  grati- 
tude. Years  after,  when  a  number  of  sol- 
diers were  reviling  the  ^'barbarian  mission- 
ary," a  tall  officer  stepped  forward  and  re- 
proved them,  saying  that  I  was  the  teacher 
who  had  relieved  him  of  the  toothache. 

My  first  dental  instruments  were  very 
rude,  having  been  hammered  out  by  a  na- 
tive blacksmith  to  my  directions.  I  now 
have  the  very  best  instruments  made  in  New 


Pulling  Teeth  199 

York.  The  lance  is  rarely  used,  and  the 
key,  hook,  punch  or  screw,  never.  A  chair 
is  not  needed,  and  with  a  hundred  sufferers 
waiting  their  turn,  any  elaborate  prepara- 
tions would  be  a  waste  of  time.  The  Chi- 
nese have  considerable  nerve,  and  endure 
the  pain  wonderfully  well. 

Our  usual  custom  in  touring  through  the 
country  is  to  take  our  stand  in  an  open 
space,  often  on  the  stone  steps  of  a  temple, 
and  after  singing  a  hymn,  proceed  to  ex- 
tract teeth,  and  then  preach  the  message  of 
the  gospel. 

The  sufferer  usually  stands  while  the 
operation  is  being  performed,  and  the  tooth 
when  removed,  is  laid  in  his  hand.  To 
keep  the  tooth  would  awaken  suspicion  re- 
garding us  in  the  Chinese  mind. 

Several  of  the  students  are  experts  with 
the  forceps,  and  \ve  have  frequently  ex- 
tracted a  hundred  teeth  in  less  than  an 
hour. 

I  have  myself,  since  1873,^  extracted 
over  twenty-one  thousand,  and  the  students 
and  preachers  have  extracted  nearly  half 
as  many  more.  The  people  now  know  that 
they  do  not  need  to  suffer  the  excruciating 


*This  was  written  in  1895. 


200    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

pain  of  toothache,  and  that  they  need  not 
run  any  risk  in  obtaining  relief. 

The  priests  and  other  enemies  of  the  mis- 
sion may  persuade  people  that  fever  and 
other  diseases  have  been  cured,  not  by  our 
medicines,  but  by  the  intervention  of  their 
gods ;  but  the  relief  from  toothache  is  un- 
mistakable, and  because  of  this,  tooth  ex- 
tracting has  been  more  than  anything  else, 
effectual  in  breaking  down  prejudice  and 
opposition. 


THE  TESTING  OF  A  HOA 

From  "From  Far  Formosa,"  by  George  Leslie 
Mackay,  D.  D.,  missionary  of  the  Canadian  Pres- 
byterian Church  to  Formosa. 

A  Hoa,  my  first  convert  in  Formosa, 
proved  a  faithful  helper,  and  an  apt  and 
diligent  student.  He  was  with  me  every 
evening  as  I  preached  to  the  people,  and 
traveled  with  me,  too,  on  short  trips  into 
the  country. 

In  the  autumn  of  1872,  a  few  months 
after  his  conversion,  we  visited  Kelung^  for 
the  first  time.  On  the  way  we  passed 
through  Bang-kah,  the  largest  city  in  the 
north,  where  the  citizens  shewed  signs  of 
bitter  hostility,  and  many  followed,  reviling 
and  pelting  us  with  stones.  A  Hoa  was 
now  becoming  familiar  with  the  taunting 
cries  that  everywhere  greeted  us : 

"Foreign  devil!  Black-bearded  bar- 
barian!" At  Sek-kahn,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Kelung  River,  broken  bricks  gave  em- 

*A  city  of  northern  Formosa. 
an 


202     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

phasis  to  the  cries  when  our  backs  were 
turned.  A  Hoa  was  early  learning  that  the 
path  of  duty  in  the  service  of  Christ  is 
sometimes  rough  and  sore,  as  it  was  for 
Him  who  first  went  up  to  Calvary. 

At  Kelung  we  stood  on  the  stone  steps 
of  a  large  heathen  temple,  sang  a  hymn  or 
two,  and  immediately  the  crowd  gathered, 
filling  the  open  space  and  the  street.  It  was 
a  mob  of  angry  idolaters.  Some  of  them 
were  A  Hoa's  old  acquaintances,  and  when 
they  saw  him  stand  beside  the  hated  "for- 
eign devil,"  their  contempt  for  the  Christian 
missionary  was  as  nothing  compared  with 
their  feelings  toward  the  Christian  convert. 

I  turned  to  A  Hoa  and  invited  him  to 
address  the  people.  It  was  a  moment  of 
testing.  He  had  never  before  spoken  for 
Christ  in  the  public  street.  It  was  only  a 
few  months  since  he  himself  had  first  heard 
the  Gospel.  He  heard  the  scornful  and  vile 
words  of  his  old  friends  and  comrades,  and 
when  I  turned  and  asked  him  to  speak,  he 
was  silent  and  hung  down  his  head. 

Immediately  I  read  the  first  verse  of  a 
hymn  and  we  sang  it  together.  The  words 
were  those  of  the  old  Scotch  paraphrase 
that  has  so  often  put  iron  into  the  blood 


The  Testing  of  a  Hoa       203 

and  courage  into  the  hearts  of  trembling 
saints. 

"I'm  not  ashamed  to  own  my  Lord, 

Or  to  defend  His  cause; 
Maintain  the  glory  of  His  cross, 

And  honor  all  his  laws." 

It  was  enough.  A  Hoa  raised  his  head, 
and  never  again  was  he  "ashamed."  Look- 
ing out  over  that  angry  mob,  he  said  in 
calm,  clear  tones  of  a  man  who  believes 
and  is  unafraid: 

"I  am  a  Christian.  I  worship  the  true 
God.  I  can  not  worship  idols  that  rats  can 
destroy.  I  am  not  afraid.  I  love  Jesus. 
He  is  my  Savior  and  Friend." 

His  testimony  was  brief,  but  it  was  brave 
and  true.  It  is  easy  now  for  a  young  man 
to  take  his  stand  for  Christ  in  Formosa; 
there  are  other  converts  to  cheer  and  en- 
courage him.  The  words  uttered  by  A  Hoa 
to  that  crowd  of  rough  and  bitter  heathen 
before  the  idol  temple  in  Kelung,  were  the 
first  ever  spoken  for  Christ  to  that  genera- 
tion by  a  native  Christian  in  North  For- 
mosa. 


JOHN  SUNDAY'S  APPEAL  TO  MR. 
GOLD 

From  "The  Apostle  of  the  North,  James 
Evans,"  by  Egerton  R.  Young. 

John  Sunday,  the  famous  Indian  preach- 
er was,  perhaps,  the  homeliest  Indian  in 
the  land.  Yet  when  his  face  lighted  up, 
and  his  eyes  began  to  twinkle,  everything 
was  forgotten  but  his  inimitable  talk. 

He  could  charm  and  fascinate  an  au- 
dience, playing  upon  their  feelings  like  a 
master  musician  on  an  organ.  Whenever  it 
was  known  that  John  Sunday  was  to  speak, 
the  halls  and  churches  were  crowded.  In 
his  wonderful  conversion,  we  see  the  power 
of  the  Grospel  to  uplift  and  save,  for  as  he 
tells  us,  he  was  once  a  poor,  drunken  Mis- 
susagas  Indian. 

At  a  great  missionary  meeting  held  in 
Toronto,  he  gave  a  powerful  address,  ap- 
pealing to  the  vast  audience  for  his  poor 
Indian  brethren  in  thefr  wretched  wig- 
wams.   His  closing  sentences  of  appeal  for 

204 


John  Sunday's  Appeal      205 

financial  help  were  characteristically  quaint 
and  original. 

"There  is  a  gentleman  I  suppose  now  in 
this  house,"  he  said.  "He  is  a  very  fine 
gentleman,  but  he  is  very,  very  modest.  He 
does  not  like  to  show  himself.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  it  is  now  since  I  saw  him, 
he  comes  out  so  little.  I  am  very  much 
afraid  he  sleeps  a  great  deal  of  his  time, 
when  he  ought  to  be  going  about  doing 
good.    His  name  is  Mr.  Gold, 

"Mr.  Gold,  are  you  here  to-night?  Or 
are  you  in  your  iron  chest  ?  Come  out,  Mr. 
Gold !  Come  out  and  help  us  do  this  great 
work  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  crea- 
ture. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Gold,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself,  to  sleep  so  much  in  your  iron 
chest!  Look  at  your  white  brother,  Mr. 
Silver;  he  does  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the 
world,  while  you  are  sleeping.  Come  out, 
Mr.  Gold,  from  your  iron  chest,  and  fly 
around  like  your  active  brother,  Mr.  Silver. 

''And  then,  Mr.  Gold,  just  think  of  your 
active  little  brother,  Mr.  Copper.  He  is 
flying  about  doing  all  the  good  he  can.  Be 
active  like  him! 

"Come  out,  Mr.  Gold !  Do  come  and  help 


2o6     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

us  in  this  good  work.  But  if  you  really 
can  not  come  yourself,  well,  do  the  next 
best  thing  you  can — that  is  send  us  your 
shirt,  that  is,  a  bank  note." 


FOUR    INDIANS    AND   A    KEG   OF 
WHISKEY 

From  "The  Apostle  of  the  North,  James 
Evans,"  by  Egerton  R.  Young,  missionary  to  the 
Cree  and  Salteaux  Indians. 

The  great  curse  of  the  Indian  is  fire- 
water. Their  love  for  strong  drink  is  their 
greatest  weakness. 

When  America  was  discovered,  the  In- 
dians had  no  intoxicants.  They  were  con- 
tent to  drink  the  water  from  the  streams 
and  lakes.  But  the  white  man  introduced 
his  spirituous  liquors  among  them,  and 
many  and  grievous  have  been  the  evils  that 
have  followed. 

Mr.  Evans  and  other  missionaries  insist- 
ed on  all  Indian  converts  becoming  total 
abstainers  from  all  intoxicating  liquors.  In 
some  places  this  met  with  fierce  opposition 
from  unprincipled  white  men  who  had  been 
thriving  on  the  trade  of  selling  fire-water 
to  the  Indians.  They  were  furious  when 
this  trade  fell  off  and  tried  by  various 
schemes  to  get  the  Christian  Indians  drunk. 
m 


2o8     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

On  one  occasion  four  Indians  from  Mun- 
cey  Town  went  to  the  white  settlement  to 
trade.  The  trader  tempted  them  to  drink 
some  whiskey,  but  they  refused,  saying  they 
were  Christians. 

Finding  he  could  not  succeed,  he  thought 
perhaps  they  were  afraid  lest  some  one 
should  see  them  drink  and  tell  the  mission- 
ary, and  that  if  they  could  take  it  on  the 
sly  they  would  drink  as  heretofore.  Know- 
ing the  road  they  would  take  home,  he  put 
a  small  jug  of  whiskey  by  the  side  of  the 
Indian  trail  at  the  edge  of  a  sloping  bank, 
and  hid  himself  in  the  bushes  beneath, 
thinking  to  enjoy  the  sport  of  seeing  them 
drink  when  all  alone. 

At  length  they  came  along  in  Indian  file. 
Suddenly  the  first  one  stopped  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"O,  mah-je-mum-e-doo  sah-oomah  ah- 
yah: — Lo,  the  evil  spirit  (the  devil)  is 
here." 

The  second,  on  coming  up,  said :  "Aahe, 
nebeje — mahmahsah: — Yes,  we  smell  him." 

The  third  shook  the  keg  with  his  foot  and 
said:  "Kagnit,  nenoondahwahsah : — Of  a 
truth  me  hear  him." 

The  fourth  Indian,  coming  up,  gave  the 


A  Keg  of  Whiskey         209 

keg  a  kick,  and  away  went  the  fire-water, 
tumbling  down  the  hilL 

The  four  then  went  on  their  way,  like 
brave  Christian  warriors,  leaving  the  mor- 
tified white  heathen  to  take  up  his  keg  and 
drink  the  devil  himself. 


THE  STARVATION  CURE 

From  "On  the  Indian  Trail,"  by  Egerton  R. 
Young,  missionary  to  the  Cree  and  Salteaux  In- 
dians. 

The  food  used  by  the  missionaries  was 
the  same  as  that  on  which  the  Indians 
lived. 

My  Indian  fisherman  and  I  used  to  catch 
about  ten  thousand  whitefish  in  gill  nets 
every  October  and  November.  These  we 
hung  up  on  great  stages,  where  they  froze 
as  solid  as  stone.  A  few  hundred  we 
packed  away  in  the  snow  for  use  in  the  fol- 
lowing May,  when  those  left  on  the  stages 
began  to  suffer  from  the  effects  of  the  warm 
spring. 

These  ten  thousand  fish  were  needed  by 
the  missionary's  family  and  his  dogs.  The 
faithful  dogs  from  whom  so  much  was  re- 
quired, lived  on  them  all  ihe  time,  while 
the  family  of  the  missionary  had  them  on 
the  table  twenty-one  times  a  week  for  six 
long  months. 

So  many  have  inquired  how  Mrs.  Young 

2tO 


The  Starvation  Cure       211 

and  I  managed  so  long  to  live  and  thrive, 
and  keep  our  health  and  spirits,  on  an  al- 
most exclusive  fish  diet,  that  I  here  give 
the  plan  we  pursued. 

We  were  in  good  health,  and  charmed 
with  and  thankful  for  our  work.    We  both 
had  so  much  to  do  that  our  appetites  were 
generally  very  good,  and  we  were  ready  for  v^ 
our  meals  as  soon  as  they  were  ready  for  us. 

Still,  after  all,  the  very  monotony  of  the 
unchangeable  fish  diet  sometimes  proved 
too  much  for  us.  We  would,  perhaps,  be 
seated  at  the  breakfast  table,  neither  of  us 
with  any  appetite  for  the  fish  before  us. 
We  would  sip  away  at  our  cup  of  tea  with- 
out apparently  noticing  that  the  fish  were 
untasted,  and  chat  about  our  plans  for  the 
day. 

"My  dear,"  I  would  say,  "what  are  you 
going  to  do  to-day?" 

"I  am  going  to  have  Kennedy  harness  up 
my  dogs,'"  she  would  answer,  "and  drive 
me  up  the  river  to  see  how  that  old  sick 
woman  is  getting  on  and  take  her  a  warm 
blanket  I  promised  her.  I  will  also  stop 
to  see  how  the  sick  babies  and  Nancy's  little 


*Mr.  and  Mrs.  Young  each  had  a  favorite  dog- 
train  for  traveling  among  the  Indians. 


212     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

twins  are  progressing.  In  the  afternoon  I 
want  to  drive  to  York  village  and  see  Oose- 
memou's  sick  wife — what  is  your  day's 
programme  ?" 

To  my  good  wife's  question,  my  answer 
would  be  after  this  fashion: 

"Well,  first  of  all,  word  has  come  that 
wolves  have  been  visiting  our  fish-cache,  so 
I  have  arranged  to  drive  over  there  with 
the  dogs  to  see  the  extent  of  the  damage. 
We  may  be  detained  some  hours  making 
the  place  strong,  so  that  they  can  not  get 
the  fish  if  they  come  again.  The  rest  of  the 
day  I  will  spend  in  that  vicinity,  visiting 
and  praying  with  the  neighbors." 

Having  taken  our  tea,  we  had  prayers, 
and  soon  after  began  carrying  out  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  day. 

It  was  after  dark  ere  all  the  work  planned 
was  accomplished,  and  we  met  in  our  little 
dining-room  for  our  evening  meal.  It  was 
really  the  first  meal  of  the  day ;  for  we  had 
a  tacit  understanding  that,  when  times  ar- 
rived that  we  could  not  really  enjoy  our 
fish  diet,  we  would  resolutely  put  in  the 
whole  day's  work  without  tasting  food.  The 
result  was,  that  when  we  drew  up  to  the 
table  after  having  refused  the  morning 
breakfast  and  ignored  the  mid-day  meal,  we 


The  Starvation  Cure        213 

found  that  our  appetite,  even  for  fish,  had 
returned,  and  we  enjoyed  it  greatly.  And 
what  was  more,  the  appetite  remained  with 
us  for  some  considerable  time  thereafter. 

Hunger  is  a  good  sauce;  and  we  found 
— and  others  have  made  the  same  discovery, 
— that  when  the  appetite  fails,  and  there  is 
a  tendency  to  criticise,  or  find  fault  with 
the  food,  or  even  with  the  cook,  a  volun- 
tary abstinence  for  two  or  three  meals  will 
be  most  beneficial  for  mind  and  body,  and 
bring  back  a  very  decided  appreciation  of 
some  of  God's  good  gifts  which  hitherto  had 
been  little  esteemed. 


JACK,  THE  FAMOUS  MISSIONARY 
DOG 

From  "My  Dogs  in  the  Northland,"  by  Eger- 
ton  R.  Young,  missionary  to  the  Cree  and  Sal- 
teaux  Indians. 

In  the  numerous  invitations  which 
were  continuously  received  for  lectures  and 
addresses,  after  our  return  from  the  North- 
land, there  was  the  constant  request:  "Be 
sure  and  bring  Jack."^ 

The  result  was,  that  as  I  traveled  up  and 
down  throughout  the  Provinces  of  Ontario 
and  Quebec,  Tack  was  as  well  known  to 
thousands  as  was  his  master.  In  the  large 
halls  and  lecture  rooms,  as  well  as  in  many 
of  the  largest  churches.  Jack,  the  famous 
missionary  dog,  was  ever  a  welcome  visitor. 
When  the  speakers  assembled  on  the  plat- 
form and  the  music  and  speaking  began, 
he  had  an  honorable  place  among  the  par- 


*Jack  was  a  giant  St.  Bernard  who  had  ren- 
dered  notable  service   in  the   famous   dog-trains 
used  by  Mr.  Young  in  his  long  winter  journeys 
among  the  Indians  of  the  north. 
214 


The  Missionary  Dog       215 

sons  and  others  of  that  class,  and  none  who 
knew  of  him  and  his  work  ever  thought  of 
disputing  his  right  to  his  place  among  those 
most  highly  honored. 

On  the  railroads  Jack  became  a  great  fa- 
vorite with  the  trainmen.  When  I  started 
off  with  him  on  a  railway  journey,  I  always 
took  him  to  the  baggage  car  and  left  him 
there,  with  orders  to  remain  until  we 
reached  our  stopping  place,  and  then  I 
would  come  for  him.  He  well  knew  what 
was  expected  of  him  and  cheerfully  obeyed. 

At  the  different  places  where  the  train 
stopped.  Jack  would  frequently  jump  out 
on  the  platform  while  the  baggage  men 
were  busy  with  the  trunks  or  other  bag- 
gage. But  he  never  got  left.  In  some  way 
or  other,  he  seemed  to  knov/  when  it  was 
his  duty  to  spring  in  the  car  again.  He  was 
very  obedient  to  my  orders  to  wait  at  the 
baggage  car  until  I  came  for  him.  This  he 
always  did,  with  one  notable  exception. 
Then  he  disobeyed  orders  most  decidedly. 
But  before  you  court-martial  him,  or  even 
censure  him,  listen  to  the  story  and  then 
see  if  you  would  have  found  Jack  guilty. 

Mrs.  Young  and  I,  with  Jack,  were  com- 
ing up  from  Trenton  to  Toronto  on  the 
Grand  Trunk  railway.    Jack,  as  usual,  was 


21 6     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

put  In  the  baggage  car,  while  Mrs.  Young 
and  I  were  in  the  last  car  in  the  train. 

We  had  hardly  been  traveling  more  than 
an  hour,  when  some  obstruction  threw  the 
engine  and  all  of  the  cars  off  the  track.  The 
baggage  car,  which,  as  usual,  was  next  to 
the  engine,  turned  sideways  and  went  down 
a  small  embankment.  This  erratic  move- 
ment caused  the  sliding  door  in  the  lower 
side  of  the  car  to  fly  open.  The  instant 
the  door  thus  opened  Jack  sprang  out  (as 
we  were  afterwards  told).  He  struck  the 
ground  before  the  car  ceased  moving  and 
rolled  over  in  the  dirt,  but  quickly  rose  up 
unhurt,  and  disappeared  from  view  of  the 
haggage  men. 

Such  was  the  speed  with  which  we  were 
going,  that  the  car  in  which  Mrs.  Young 
and  I  were  sitting  was  broken  almost  com- 
pletely off  its  running  gear.  Fortunately 
no  one  in  our  car  was  hurt. 

We,  of  course,  all  sprang  at  once  to  our 
feet  and  rushed  for  the  door.  We  were 
thankful  to  find  that  it  had  not  jammed,  so 
that  we  were  able  to  get  out  very  quickly. 
As  our  seat  had  been  very  near  the  door, 
we  were  about  the  first  to  rush  out.  We 
were  excited  by  the  cries  of  those  injured 
or  confined  in  the  cars  in  front,  and  were 


The  Missionary  Dog       217 

anxious  to  help.  But  before  I  had  run 
many  yards,  there  was  Jack,  coming  with 
all  the  speed  imaginable. 

The  instant  he  recognized  me  he  gave  a 
howl  of  delight,  and  springing  upon  me, 
he  threw  his  great  fore-paws  around  my 
neck  and  held  me  with  a  grip  like  a  bear, 
while  he  kissed  me  repeatedly  in  dog  fash- 
ion, and  howled  out  his  joy  that  I  had  es- 
caped injury. 

When  I  could  get  him  down  and  quiet 
his  delight  a  little,  he  saw  Mrs.  Young,  and 
away  he  rushed  for  her,  and  again  we  had 
an  exhibition  of  his  delight  that  we  had 
both  fortunately  escaped  without  injury. 

His  remarkable  conduct  on  this  occasion 
attracted  much  attention  from  a  number  of 
people,  and  there  was  much  discussion  and 
speculation*  afterwards  about  Jack's  actions 
on  that  day.  These  are  the  facts  as  they 
occurred  and  they  are  worthy  of  study. 


THE  TAMER  OF  THE  TSIMSHEANS 

From  "The  Story  of  Metlakahtla,"  by  Henry 
S.  Welcome. 

Remembering  how  the  white  Christian* 
had  come  among  them  with  so  much  self- 
sacrifice  to  lead  them  out  of  darkness,  the 
Indians  of  Metlakahtla  felt  it  to  be  incum- 
bent upon  themselves  to  carry  the  Gospel 
to  their  less  privileged  brethren. 

Native  missionaries  went  out  at  their  own 
expense,  giving  their  message  in  simple,  fig- 
urative language,  yet  with  an  earnestness 
that  carried  conviction.  Hunters  and  fish- 
ermen, mingling  with  the  people  of  other 
villages,  told  them  of  the  changes  wrought 
by  the  new  life,  and  parties  of  traders  jour- 
neying far  inland  or  voyaging  along  the 
coast,  bartering  for  furs,  each  did  their 
share  of  the  work. 

Nor  was  it  by  their  words  alone  that  they 


^William  Duncan,  a  young  Englishman  who 
carried  the  Gospel  to  the  Tsimshean  Indians  of 
British  Columbia. 

218 


Tamer  of  the  Tsimsheans    219 

gave  their  evidence.  Here  were  men,  now 
mild  and  peaceful,  who  had  once  been  a  ter- 
ror to  the  whole  coast.  What  had  wrought 
the  change.? 

After  being  visited  by  a  company  of  these 
Christian  Indians,  a  chief  and  several  head 
men  of  the  Chilkats,  a  fierce  tribe  living 
some  five  or  six  hundred  miles  north  on 
the  Alaskan  coast,  ventured  to  pay  a  visit 
to  Metlakahtla,  the  model  village  of  which 
they  had  heard  such  wonderful  stories. 

Just  before  landing,  as  was  customary  on 
visiting  a  settlement,  they  arrayed  them- 
selves in  all  their  magnificence  of  barbaric 
finery,  intending  to  impress  the  people  with 
their  greatness  and  importance.  As  they" 
approached  in  solemn  state,  Mr.  Ehincan 
was  notified  of  their  coming,  and  urged  to 
put  on  his  Sunday  best,  because  the  savages 
were  in  gorgeous  trappings  and  would 
despise  him  if  he  were  poorly  dressed.  He 
had  on  his  common  working  clothes  and 
was  in  the  midst  of  some  important  work, 
which  he  could  not  drop  at  the  moment. 

As  the  Chilkats'  superb  canoes  kissed  the 
beach,  they  leaped  out  and  were  cordially 
received  by  the  Metakahtlans.  They  were 
struck  with  utter  amazement  at  the  sight 
of  the  buildings,  the  manner  in  which  the 


220     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

people  were  clothed,  and  the  general  ap- 
pearance of  thrift  and  civilization  on  every 
hand.  They  were  impatient  to  see  the  great 
master  who  had  wrought  all  these  wonders. 

Mr.  Duncan  had  made  no  change  in  his 
dress,  for  at  all  times  he  sought  to  discour- 
age the  love  of  pomp  and  foolish  display 
which  he  found  so  deeply  rooted  in  these 
naturally  vainglorious  people.  When  the 
Chilkats  were  escorted  to  him,  and  he  was 
pointed  out  as  the  benefactor,  they  looked 
over  and  beyond  him,  saying: 

"We  can  not  see  him.    Where  is  he  ?" 

And  when  the  modest,  plainly-clad  little 
man  greeted  them,  and  his  personality  was 
made  clear,  they  preserved  their  counte- 
nance in  stolid  rigor  to  maintain  their  own 
great  dignity,  and  uttered  no  word  save  a 
formal  greeting. 

Despite  their  efforts  to  conceal  their 
thoughts,  they  betrayed  great  astonishment ; 
they  evidently  thought  they  were  being  de- 
ceived. Mr.  Duncan,  evincing  great  cor- 
diality, conducted  them  to  his  house,  and 
gave  them  the  customary  seats  of  honor 
for  distinguished  guests.  They  continued 
to  look  at  him  in  utter  silence  for  some 
time;  then,  unable  to  contain  themselves 
longer,  they  cried  out: 


Tamer  of  the  Tsimsheans    221 

"Surely  you  can  not  be  the  man!  We 
expected  to  see  a  great  and  powerful  giant, 
gifted  in  magic,  with  enormous  eyes  that 
could  look  right  through  us  and  read  our 
thoughts!    No,  it  is  impossible! 

"How  could  you  tame  the  wild  and  fe- 
rocious Tsimsheans,  who  were  always 
waging  war,  and  were  feared  throughout 
the  whole  coast?  It  is  only  a  few  years 
ago  that  all  this  country  was  a  streak  of 
blood,  now  we  see  nothing  but  white  eagles* 
down!^  We  can  hardly  believe  our  own 
eyes,  when  we  see  these  fine  houses  and 
find  the  Tsimsheans  have  become  wise  like 
white  men!  They  tell  us  you  have  God's 
Book,  and  that  you  have  taught  them  to 
read  it.    We  want  to  see  it." 

When  the  Bible  was  placed  before  them, 
and  they  were  told  that  it  was  by  following 
its  teachings  that  the  Metlakahtlans  had  be- 
come enlightened,  each  one  touched  it  rev- 
erently with  the  tip  of  his  finger  and  said : 

"Ahm,  ahm" — (It  is  good,  it  is  good). 

The  visitors  tarried  for  several  days,  dur- 
ing which  they  marvelled  at  every  new 
wonder  of  civilization  which  they  beheld. 
Mr.  Duncan  seized  every  opportunity  to  im- 


^Their  emblem  of  peace  and  amity. 


222     Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

press  upon  them  the  fundamental  truths 
which  had  brought  about  this  change.  He 
showed  them  that  the  prosperity  and  ma- 
terial benefits  which  they  witnessed  were 
the  reward  of  adopting  the  new  life. 

This  lesson  was  not  lost  upon  them ;  they 
returned  to  their  homes  resolved  to  adopt 
the  Christian  white  man's  ways. 


COUNT   ZINZENDORF   AND   RABBI 
ABRAHAM 

From  "A  Short  History  of  the  Moravian 
Church,"  by  J.  E.  Hutton,  M.  A. 

Among  the  motley  medley  that  lived 
about  the  Castle'  was  an  old  gray-haired 
Jew,  called  Rabbi  Abraham.  One  bright 
June  evening  Count  Zinzendorf  met  him, 
held  out  his  hand  and  said: 

"Gray  hairs  are  a  crown  of  glory.  I  can 
see  from  your  head  and  the  expression  of 
your  eyes  that  you  have  had  much  ex- 
perience, both  of  heart  and  life.  In  the 
name  of  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac  and 
Jacob,  let  us  be  friends." 

The  old  man  had  never  heard  such  a 
greeting  from  a  Christian  before.  "Begone, 
Jew,"  had  been  his  usual  salutation.  He 
was  struck  dumb  with  wonder.  His  lips 
trembled,  his  voice  failed,   and  big  tears 

*The  old  castle  Marienborn  in  which  Count  Zin- 
zendorf made  his  home  during  his  sojourn  in 
Wetteravia. 

OS 


\ 


224    Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

rolled  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks  upon  his 
flowing  beard. 

"Enough,  father,"  said  the  Count,  "we 
understand  each  other." 

From  this  moment  the  two  were  friends. 
The  Count  went  to  see  him  in  his  dirty 
home,  and  ate  black  bread  at  his  table.  One 
morning  before  daybreak,  as  the  two 
walked  out,  the  Jew  said:  *'My  old  heart 
is  longing  for  the  dawn.  I  am  sick,  yet 
know  not  what  is  the  matter  with  me.  I 
am  longing  for  something,  but  I  know  not 
what  I  seek.  I  am  like  one  who  is  chased, 
yet  I  see  no  enemy,  except  the  one  within 
me — my  own  old  evil  heart." 

Then  Count  Zinzendorf  opened  his  lips 
and  declared  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  He 
painted  Love  on  the  Cross ;  he  described 
that  love  coming  down  from  holiness  and 
heaven;  he  painted  in  glowing  colors  how 
Christ  met  corrupted  manhood,  that  man 
might  become  like  God. 

As  the  old  man  wept  and  wrung  his 
hands,  the  two  ascended  a  hill,  where  stood 
a  lonely  church.  And  the  sun  rose,  and  its 
rays  fell  on  the  golden  cross  on  the  church 
spire,  and  the  cross  glittered  brightly  in 
the  light  of  heaven. 

"See,    Abraham!"   said   Zinzendorf,    "a 


Count  Zinzendorf  225 

sign  from  heaven  for  you.  The  God  of 
your  fathers  has  placed  the  cross  in  your 
sight,  and  now  the  sun  rising  from  on  high 
has  tinged  it  with  heavenly  splendor.  Be- 
lieve in  Him  whose  blood  was  shed  by  your 
fathers,  that  God's  purpose  of  mercy  might 
be  fulfilled,  that  you  might  be  made  free 
from  all  sin,  and  find  in  Him  all  your  sal- 
vation." 

"So  be  it,"  said  the  Jew  as  a  new  light 
flashed  on  his  soul.  "Blessed  be  the  Lord 
who  has  had  mercy  upon  me." 


Printed  in  the  United  States  ef  A  mertca 


V 


BY  BELLE   M.  BRAIN 


Adventures  With  Four-Footed  Folk 

And  Other  Creatures  of  the  Animal  World 

Illustrated,  12mo,  cloth,  net  ;fl.OO. 

No  one  is  able  to  detect  an  interesting  story  more 
quickly  than  Miss  Brain.  In  her  latest  work  sne  has 
selected  some  of  the  most  thrilling  stories  from  the 
mission  field  dealing  with  animals  of  all  sorts,  from 
Edgerton  R.  Young's  sledge  dogs  in  the  Northwest  to 
the  man-eating  tiger  in  India. 

All  About  Japan 

A  Young  People's  History  of  Japan.  Illus- 
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some  of  the  most  successful  of  those  who  nave  given 
themselves  to  the  task  of  spreading  the  gospel  of 
Christ  throughout  the  islsiads."— Literary  Digest. 

The  Transformation  of  Hawaii 

How  American  Missionaries  gave  a  Chris- 
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12mo,  cloth,  net  $1.00 

"It  is  remarkable  that  one  who  has  not  been  on  the 
ground  should  have  attained  such  a  comprehension  of 
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am  in  a  position  to  judge  of  these  points,  having  lived 
there  nearly  all  my  life." — Prof,  W.  D.  Alexander^ 
author  of   A  Brief  History  of  the  Hawaiian  People." 

Missionary  Readings  for  Missionary  Pro- 
grams 

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"Appreciating  the  wealth  of  thrilling  incident  to  be 
found  in  missionary  books,  and  also  understanding 
that  generally  these  are  not  written  in  proper  form 
for  public  readings.  Miss  Brain  has  made  extremely 
interesting  extracts  from  missionary  volumes.  The 
selections  cover  all  the  prominent  missionary  coun- 
tries."—CAr?.rf/'«M  Endeavor  World, 

Fifty  Missionary  Stories 

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tance."—CAw^ww  Intelligencer. 


^^■mmml 


